A Clash of Identities
by Ruthie Smith
Summary: Reeling from his brother's betrayal, Thomas Cooper has recovered and made a name for himself as a chef...but not enough to forget his stolen powers. However, when he agrees to cater for his boss's spoiled daughter- a match made in hell- he discovers that the Vincetti family is not as innocent as they would have him believe... (Novella sequel to Seeker and the Savant.)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The first time I saw the girl was when I arrived at the Vincetti mansion for the first time. Dazed and blinking, I'd barely parked my Fiat (badly) into the staff car parking space and unloaded my trunk before I turned a corner and ran slap-bang into her.

Luggage flew everywhere; I almost fell over and stumbled backwards a few steps instead. What the heck was that?

Then I saw her lying on the floor, surrounded by bits of what had been, I think, cake. Her cake, then. Oh no, what had I done now?

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry-"

"What" she spat the words out individually, "the _hell _do you _think _you're _doing_?"

"I'm- I was-"

"Save it!"

She held up an imperious hand, and panic turned to anger, which boiled inside me. Who did she think she was? Perhaps the clothing should have given it away- jodhpurs and a tweed jacket, the exercise outfit of the rich- but my boiling blood couldn't think past her arrogant-in-the-extreme behaviour.

"Firstly, you parked in my space. And secondly, you just assaulted," she informed me loftily- cake smeared across her cheek and jacket- "the daughter of Vincetti himself."

I almost laughed. "I'm sorry?" Her, Rosa Vincetti? The famously beautiful woman, the famously pampered millionaire's daughter? My boss's only family? Little more than a spoiled brat? I glared at her, regretting that I'd ever tried to help.

"You should be."

I steeled myself. "Well, I'm not." How was that for originality?

"Who_ are_ you?" She was on her feet now. I noticed- dimly- that she only came up to my chin, but the extra metre of attitude sort of made up for it. She had a posture which was better than the Queen's, for heaven's sake.

"Thomas Cooper." And why, _why _didn't I make up a name? _Because_, with her glaring at me like that, I couldn't think straight. Her hazel eyes pierced almost through my skin; I glared stonily back.

You can see that, from the off, this was a match made in paradise, if not heaven.

"Thomas Cooper." She said almost thoughtfully- and with all the confidence of the supremely rich. "I've never met a more arrogant arse. I don't know what you think you're doing, but you'd better hope I never see you again. For both our sakes. Or I'll have you sacked."

_Sacked?! _Woah! I narrowed both eyes. I don't normally get angry very easily, but this girl was pushing all of my buttons with a vengeance, and my blood was just about reaching boiling point. The Cooper flaw- an explosive temper – was clouding everything in a dull, hazy red. Try as I might, I was going to lose it. Big time. And in front of my employer's daughter.

"And you, whatever your name is, are an opinionated, selfish, _arrogant _little rich girl. You won't see me again. Well done."

Her eyes widened with something- shock, horror, anger?-but I was done. I reached over, yanked my suitcase upright, and dragged it towards the back entrance.

The last thing I saw of her was a pair of piercing eyes drilling into my back.

As you can see, our first meeting went extremely well.

I should have known then that she'd be trouble.

"Name?"

"Thomas Cooper."

The clerk ran a finger down a long list on his clipboard and narrowed his eyes, before slowly ticking my name on the page. I took a couple of deep breaths- after my little spat, my cheeks were still a flaming red. I probably looked a little deranged- it was no wonder he was suspicious.

Perhaps I should explain. I was on leave from my current restaurant, and had been roped in by my employer to cook for the multitude of guests who had been invited to his daughter's twenty first at their country mansion. If you thought you knew rich, think again. This guy was so loaded that he could have showered in champagne every day and not seen even a dent in his finances.

"Chef for the gala?"

"Yes, that's right."

He cocked an eyebrow at my frayed jeans and stripy top, as though he very much doubted it. "Your room is second on the right down that corridor there. You're sharing with a Mark Johnson. He'll show you the kitchen and where to get your whites from."

"Thanks."

"Don't...mention it."

Under his disapproving gaze- more dried up than two-month-old meat- I lugged my suitcase down a narrow corridor that looked as though it hadn't been refurbished since the nineteen sixties, and knocked on the door that was second from the right.

It opened immediately to reveal a guy who was about two inches shorter than me, but wearing the widest, most mega-watted smile that I'd ever seen. I almost took a step back aware from its glare.

"_Hey! _At last! Thomas Cooper! God, I was starting to think I was the only one here!"

My luggage was dragged into the room; I saw no choice but to follow since all of my clothes were being held hostage by this beaming dwarf. It was kinda scary how much he had to say- and how quickly he dove into motormouth mode.

"This place is gorgeous- don't get me wrong- but it's so _empty _at the moment. None of the staff have arrived yet- well, mostly, 'cos the deadline's tomorrow. But Rosa Vincetti's gang of snobs are patrolling the grounds in search of fun times and I've been forced to duck into cooooooountless hedges to get away. They're so loud, you can hear them a mile away-"

"Rosa Vincetti?" I thought of the furious girl I'd met a couple of minutes beforehand. There hadn't been any accompanying friends...what had she been doing?

"Don't tell me you don't know why we're here! Her _par-tay_? Yes? Biggest festival since the Royal Wedding, blah blah blah?" Mark blew out his breath exasperatedly. "Yeah, beautiful but ice-cold. The original ice princess. Her buddies are worse, though. Real high-class, haw-haw-haw kind of people, you know? I bet they still go on fox hunts. I can't say I've been proven wrong so far, either. So- where you from? Fellow chef I presume?"

"Yeah. I'm from down South- from Wellington."

"They flew me over from Oz." He grinned. "Do I sense a potential rival, eh?"

"Only in the rugby...and in who made the Pavlova first."

"You're _on! _Though it was us, of course."

"No chance." I smiled. I liked this guy...which was good since I'd be spending a week in the same room as him. In a small room, in fact: it was about three metres by five- the size of my broom cupboard in our old restaurant. Even though we'd only been renting that place, it had been roomier than this. Two beds were wedged at opposite ends of the room, with a battered wardrobe stuffed between them. A rather faded watercolour print of dogs playing poker sat on the wall above Mark's bed. And that was it. I had a feeling that a multi-millionaire should have been able to provide better for his staff...a fully stocked mini bar would have done the trick.

"Y'alright, mate?" I looked around to see Mark looking worried. "I'm not talking too much, am I? Sally always says that-"

"No, m'fine." A human's automated response in times of extreme preoccupation. "Just a bit...overwhelmed." Imogen- my last girlfriend- would have laughed her head off to see me in a mansion like this. "You don't fit." She'd have said...and she was right, even when made up in my head.

"Oh, well, we'll see how it goes then." Mark flumped down onto his bed with a sigh. It creaked alarmingly. I sat down rather gingerly on mine. "Overwhelmed is the word, mate. You should see the menu he's got sorted for this week! It's crazy, man. Some of the stuff...well, I'm just glad we've got a recipe book, that's all I'm saying."

"Mmm."

"And I'll tell you something _else _that's cool." Oh, good. "There have been rumours...of _magic. _Here. In the mansion!"

And now I was paying attention. "_What_?"

Mark looked pleased that I was paying attention. "Yeah, I know, right? People say that Vincetti's wife- well, she's dead now- was a witch! I swear, when I asked about her several of the staff actually went pale! And they say...they say that her daughter inherited the same genes. And at night...things _move._ Furniture. Keys. Lights go on and off. Spooky, huh! We're in a genuine haunted house!"

"Really." A witch? Unlikely. A haunted house? Even more so...

"Yeah. Hey, man, don't look at me like that! It's not me who says so! Anyway, there's more. Apparently, the dad's invited some rather...dodgy blokes around for his daughter's birthday. Not dodgy _that _way! As in, weird. Threatening, almost. Cool, huh?"

"Yeah. As long as you don't run into them. You seem to know a lot, anyway."

"Hey!" Mark threw up both hands. "What can I say? I'm a gossip!"

"You're like an old woman!"

"Maybe I am...at heart. An old lady...that'd explain my knitting fetish."

I laughed. Mark's chatter was fast washing away the remainders of my argument with the rich, spoiled Rosa Vincetti. I had an interesting (if chatterbox-prone) roommate, a genuine haunted house to live in and a whole week to cook the most elaborate dishes I could.

What could possibly go wrong?

Rather a lot, it turned out. Mark showed me the store cupboard, where I got my own chef's whites (embroidered with the Vincetti motif, no less), the toilets, the mess room, and, finally: the kitchen.

Although our employer was obviously a skinflint when it came to room decorations, he'd spared no expense in the recently-done chrome masterpiece. Every surface gleamed- I could practically see the bacteria shrivelling away at the sight of it- every possible device crammed the shelves, which were stacked to the brims with spices, herbs, seasoning...it made my fingers itch to go and start sifting through them. A large set of photocopied sheets was tacked to the wall- these must be the different recipes. A quick glance revealed them as fiendishly complicated and almost impossible to pull off with so little training.

It was a good job he'd only picked the best, then. I was flattered.

"Good, isn't it?" Mark was practically clapping with glee. "There's nobody here yet, 'cos everyone's arriving tomorrow, but it makes sense to get a feel of the place, eh?"  
"Yes." I said slowly. "Who's our head chef?"

"The guy who manages the cooking here normally. He's a real dragon; I think he's called Roberto. He'll probably want a pep talk before we start, anyway." Mark sighed happily, fingers lovingly caressing an automatic whisk. "Isn't it great? I think I've just died and gone to heaven. Food heaven. They even have a vacuum packer- can you believe it?!"

I laughed. "Yeah...it's awesome."

"Nice one. C'mon, I'll give you a tour!"

After Mark's extremely enthusiastic whip-round guided tour of the staff quarters (huge- just how many people did Vincetti employ?), the gardens (which felt bigger than Yellowstone National), and the outside view of the family's mansion, I was more than ready for some manly Alone Time. With that in mind, I took a turn down the edge of the evening sun-lit main lawn, past where the huge marquee was being set up, and revelled in the peacefulness of it all.

It wasn't that my roommate was annoying- although I'd been stunned by how much that guy could _talk- _but I was keen to find out more about the annoyingly elusive Vincetti. In particular, Rosa. Though God help me if I admitted that last bit to myself, much less to the various toffs and staff who would probably either laugh at me or rearrange my facial features into a montage worthy of Picasso. What had happened to that girl to make her into such a class bitch? And more interestingly, what had happened to Mrs Vincetti? Nobody seemed prepared to talk about her- by nobody, I meant the house staff, who had clammed up like- well, clams- on broaching the subject.

Scowling at the grass, I constructed two hunches. Firstly, that it had something to do with Rosa's behaviour, and secondly, that Vincetti's influence was far more pervasive than I'd first realised. Why the obsessive loyalty? Either he was an exceptional employer, or fear had tightened their lips...

Maybe it was the Savant Net training, but something just didn't add up.


	2. A Sneak and a Deal

Standing on the fringe of the forest, I whuffed out a breath, digging both hands into my pockets and studying the pristine grass as though the blades would miraculously spell out the answers. I'd ended up on the edge of the lawn, behind the long, low kitchen building, where the gravel kissed the wood's edge. I could see the back of the house from here- not that there was much to see apart from brickwork...

Wait. What was that?

I squinted through the gathering gloom, trying to make out the two dark-suited figures blotting the red of the house. Actually, three: I'd overlooked one on account of the fact that he was cowering. Thinning grey hair, long nose, clipboard: with a jolt, I realised that I was looking at the disdainful clerk from earlier. Except that he wasn't disdainful any more. He'd foregone disdain in favour of downright terror. And I couldn't blame him. The men facing him weren't tall as such, but even from here, I could see that they radiated a sort of controlled ferocity that gave them an almost palpable aura of menace.

I edged closer, trying to see their faces.

And then the bottom dropped out of my stomach.

I recognised the bald head, the grey spectacles and the neatly pressed suit- although last time I'd seen him he'd been in hospital. The man who'd attacked us in the café, the man whom my brother had ordered to attack my sister's Soulfinder- and had gotten me instead. And here he was again, bringing up all those unwelcome memories.

I couldn't pretend I didn't feel bitter that he'd missed and hit the wrong person. My hands fisted and I sucked in a convulsive breath. That man could control _minds_. What was he doing here?

As I watched, the clerk stiffened, turned slowly on the spot and vanished inside the Vincetti mansion. The others followed.

I was suddenly very aware of the warm sun on my skin; of the flower-perfume hanging in the air; of my suddenly-sweaty hands on the thick weave of my jeans.

I wasn't a member of the Net anymore. I wasn't even a Savant anymore.

I shouldn't be curious; should just turn, walk away and forget. Blot it out- a beetroot stain on an otherwise spotless recipe sheet. It was none of my business.

It didn't matter. He was up to something- and it couldn't be anything good. Curiosity gripped me with vicelike claws and didn't let go, as somewhere within me, a tiny voice screamed out _revenge._

I set off after the men.

* * *

The inside of the house was cool and dark, but everything- from the lamps to the tables- screamed taste and expense. Thick carpets, patterned wallpaper- a sort of National Trust style house, complete with random china ornaments and modernist sculptures. The three men weren't too far ahead- as I watched, they turned a corner and disappeared from sight. Every nerve straining, I followed.

A floorboard creaked; I almost jumped a mile. Heart pounding, I flattened myself against the wall- drilled through force of habit. But no- it was the clerk's voice, worryingly distant. "I assure you...won't be seen."

Won't be seen? Not if I could help it.

Their footsteps led upstairs, and I followed, sneaking up the banister like a rather persistent shadow. They turned up the staircase- me staying behind for fear of being seen- and vanished.

Cursing, I sped up, but –damn! I'd lost them! Doors curved away from the main landing, every one identical. I stabbed a hand through my hair, wondering what my chances were from here on in...

A creak snapped me to attention, standing as I was like a moron on the middle of the staircase. I turned and saw a crack in the door- leading to a polished desk ostentatiously carved with the initials R.V. This guy fancied himself, didn't he?

Had they gone in there?

Cautiously, twitching like a meerkat on steroids, I crept over and put my eye up against the crack. Nobody...I thought.

Was it safe? Heart hammering against my ribcage, I risked another glance.

There was an eye staring right back at me; hazel surrounded with white.

I choked on a swear word, stumbling backwards in shock. What? What was _that? Who _was that? Had I been rumbled? How was I going to explain this away?

There were voices behind me...

The clerk was coming, voice conciliatory, wheedling... "So sorry, Mr Vincetti will be here shortly. In the meantime, gentlemen, why don't you wait in the study..."

I hissed out a breath, palms clamming up. Panic fought my mind for control of my body- I was trapped. And any moment now, they'd see me...

Behind me, the door creaked some more- and then a hand grabbed my collar and hauled me inside.

Shocked, I spun on the spot, instinctively catching my would-be attacker's wrist and shifting for maximum grip. As the world spun, I readied myself for defence- or a reasoned argument, either one- before coming face to face with the dumbfounded (who else?) Rosa Vincetti.

All thoughts of gratitude shrivelled on the spot.

"_You!" _

For a moment, we stared at each other.

Her small wrist fitted exactly into my palm, sparking fire up my face- from the shock. Her face registered a mixture of astonishment, anger and- was it possible?-fear.  
Very precisely, I removed each finger, and let go of her wrist.

She was the first to recover. "What are you doing here?"

I didn't have an answer to that one. "I...uh..." What could I say? "They're coming!"

They were. They were right outside the door!

Without thinking, I seized her arm, and all but threw her across the room, towards a side table covered with a large, ugly tartan cloth. Disastrous fashion-wise, but great hiding-wise.

"What-" She started.

"Shut up! Quick! Get under here!" I dived under the table, letting the folds straighten and cover my body. After a moment- possibly spurred by my urgency- she followed, to my immense relief. Nobody deserved to be caught by those men, especially not a mundane.

Crammed together in the mothball-smelling space, we waited. Huddled together like this- tables didn't generally permit much in the way of personal space- I could smell hay and roses coming from her, making me feel self-conscious about my own body smell. Sadly, perfume generally isn't an option for guys- I probably smelled of cooking. I could only hope it wasn't onions or garlic.

What had she been doing skulking in her father's office in the first place?

Then they started talking, and I started paying attention.

"We'll wait here. Go back to the entrance." The man had a soft, almost lulling voice.

"But-" The clerk started to protest, but was cut short.

"_Go back to the entrance. Don't let anybody else enter until the conversation is finished. Say its personal business." _I shivered as the words- each one as heavy as iron- stamped themselves into the clerk's brain. I knew that particular feeling of hopelessness all too well, and curled up tighter in my ball. The lock clicked; we were alone. With the two men.

"Are you sure this is wise?" The other asked. His voice sounded familiar...of course. It was the colourless grey man. I hoped that he still remembered the thrashing my sister had dealt him, half a year ago. Beside me, Rosa Vincetti frowned, and made to move. I held a finger urgently to my lips- mercifully, she subsided. She'd saved me on a whim- I had to hope that she'd trust me on one, too.

"What? This is what we've been working for! Don't tell me that you're having second thoughts after your more recent...failure." Ooh, burn. These people weren't friends- the room was swimming in testosterone and veiled threats.

"No, no. But...who will do the talking? There's no use trying to control him...is there? I mean, he won't give up his business, support- or daughter- lightly."

"Use your head." The other sounded withering. "We've done a fair bit of that already. And we'll have to do a lot more. But no. He won't give us that by force. We'll have to use persuasion here. Finesse. _De-li-ca-cy."_

"Ah. You, then." My man- if I could call him that- sounded almost humble. No guessing who was in charge here, then.

There was a quiet hissing; I looked sideways to see my fellow spy almost spitting tacks. I didn't need any paranormal power to figure out what she was thinking here.

But just as I was starting to seriously consider restraining her, the door opened yet again.

"Gentlemen." Rosa deflated as though somebody had stuck a pin in her. It was Big Daddy himself- the victim.

"Ah, Mr Vincetti, sir. How are you? How's the campaign going?" The sounds of grovelling oozed under the cloth. I winced. There was enough oiliness there to grease an engine.

"Well, evidently. What is it, gentlemen?"

"We were just in the area, and thought we'd make a visit to discuss the finer points of the...deal being made between you and our employer."

"Ah."

"Sir?"

"Yes." My boss' voice had changed; it now held an element of both dread and excitement. "I see. Well, I shall discuss this presently with your employer in person."

"I'm afraid he doesn't often leave-"

"Well, if he wants what I have to offer, he'll have to."

"If you think that's necessary. He'll be here on Friday, of course." The penultimate day of the gala, I thought. Why?

"Of course. Why else would I ask? Now, gentlemen. If you'll leave the premises as soon as possible. I expect you'll understand the reasons why..." Several padded footfalls; the click of a door; a breath of relief.

We were alone.

* * *

I wiped my forehead and leaned back against the wall.

"Jeez. That was-"

"What. The _hell. _Was _that?" _Momentarily, I'd forgotten Vincetti's daughter. A mistake, as it turned out. She surged up from the carpet, almost spitting tacks. The fabric almost withered as she raged, furious, her cultured voice slipping into a melodic Italian accent.

"Give up his _business? _Decide _my future-__è il mio futuro! _I can't believe this. I'm going to shut them down. What do those two creeps _want?" _

Feeling less-than-dignified, I crawled out from underneath the table, feeling a lot more curious but no more satisfied than before. The game was afoot! A powerless Sherlock and a furious, belligerent Watson were on the case...only what case? What did a bunch of Savants want with an Italian millionaire? Was he a Savant, too? Or just an innocent- if brusque- victim?

Maybe eavesdropping hadn't been the best idea after all.

"And you!" I glanced up to see that Rosa's fury had come crashing down on where I sat, head resting against the edge of the table. Not wanting to meet her eyes, I shut them. "What are you doing here? Why did you come to my father's office? Sneaking around like that- I could have you arrested!"

"But you won't." I told her, eyes still closed. "You were in his office too-why?"

"I _live _here." Her tone dripped sarcasm.

"Yes." I matched her tone. "But you hid from Vin- your father too. In his office. You're not allowed here...because you want to know what's going on."

"_Don't _tell me what I think or not." She snarled. A pause. "_Do _you know what's going on?"

Oh boy, did I. I held the key to a world which she never knew existed- and right now, that same key was in the lock.

"Do you know these people? And open your eyes, for God's sake!" She'd taken my silence for a yes, and was pacing up and down the room- angry, scared, confused. I ignored her order, feeling a certain stab of smugness at doing so. But the other half of the question...

"Yes." I said heavily, and she flinched with surprise. "One of them attacked my sister about a year ago."

"Attacked? But _Dio, _then let's put him away!"

"The police won't lend a hand." I said forcefully. I had to make her understand this, if nothing else. "They have contacts- _nothing _you tell them will help. It'll only make them notice you."

"Who's 'them'? How do you know so much?"

I gritted my teeth. She was young, non-magical, and pig-headed, and she would be run into the ground by them: members of the criminal Savant ring. The world was a sucky place: feral, and vicious. No matter how much I disliked her (and how much the little voice in my head was telling me not to interfere) I had to keep her safe- and safe meant not involved.

"I know the rules of the game. I've played it. And trust me-" I stood up, fight gone, a head taller than her, and glared down into her angry- vulnerable-eyes. "-it's not a game you want to play. Because you always lose."

She swallowed, then, and met my eyes, clear hazel piercing through my skin- seeing right through me. "I don't want my father to lose. Who are those people? Can you help? _Per favore._"

I almost wanted to laugh. Once upon a time, I could. Now, I was useless; hopeless.

"You are a girl." I said slowly, wanting to make sure every word sank in. "You can't do anything; you can't interfere. Otherwise they'll get rid of you. Nothing you've learnt in your spoiled, rich life will help you here- the world doesn't work the way you want it to! It's cruel, it's vicious, and it'll sniff out your every weakness and use it against you. Take it from me- _don't get involved_!"

I didn't want to be cruel- guilt stabbed viciously at me as I said the words- but her only response was a quick, sucked-in breath, and a hardening of her eyes. "I'll go after them anyway, so tell me what I'm up against. Tell me, _per carità_!"

"Criminals more powerful than anything you can imagine." I warned her, and left, anger still buzzing in my veins, feeling a complete and utter coward.


	3. Midnight Fight

My eavesdropping and conversation with Rosa Vincetti played through my mind all the rest of that day, colouring all of my conversations with a faint sense of worry. Had I done the right thing in abandoning her? Surely it was for her own good- she had no idea of what she was facing, and I had no back up. And yet...I felt guilty. Even Mark noticed at dinner, as we sat with a whole host of other chefs the day before the gala started.

"Y'alright, mate? Ya seem a bit down in the mouth. He's not usually this bad, folks!" He told the table at large. A couple of people grinned appreciatively.

"Fine, thanks, Mark."

"Don't worry, Thomas." A dark-skinned German grinned at me. "Between the little madam and the cooking, you won't have time to feel sorry."

"The little madam?" Sniggers vibrated the length of the table.

"Rosa Vincetti. Of course." The German- Gustav, I think- said. "Why she is havink this party, I do not know. To impress all her friends, I think."

"She's a little witch, that one." Marilyn, a woman (one of the only ones sitting there) with flaming red hair called. "She's fired someone before- an English guy. Said something she didn't like and pfft-" she waved her hand expressively, "-gone."

Several guys nodded obediently, starstruck by the only woman in the kitchen.

Really? I frowned and didn't commit myself. As much as Rosa seemed spiteful, I was beginning to think that she wasn't. Spoiled, yes. Determined, yes. Belligerent, yes. Vulnerable? Most definitely. The encounter with her in her father's office (ooh-er) confirmed what I'd already suspected- that Rosa Vincetti was not a happy person.

"Hey, Tom. You had a run-in with her, didn't you?" I scowled at Mark- cheers, mate. The whole table looked expectantly at me, and I cursed my roommates' loose tongue.

"Yeah...just in passing. Nothing much." I mumbled. "She didn't say anything."  
"Why would she?"

Why did these people hate Rosa Vincetti so much? I munched over the casserole, but shelved the matter. I'd call the Net; they could sort it out. I was a nothing; a nobody. A dried-up ex-Savant who didn't really belong in either world anymore.

Around me, people laughed and talked.

The casserole felt like glue in my mouth.

* * *

The bald man haunted my dreams that night, slipping in and out of the shadows like a ghost, only to inflict some new terror. Several times I woke up; once I sleep-punched the bedstead, woke Mark with my cussing, and received some nicely-purpled fingers in the morning.

Once the day dawned, though, I didn't have the time to worry. The guests were arriving; the gala was starting; the twenty-strong team of chefs got to work. We'd all received kitchen orientation (mine, courtesy of Mark) and the recipes had come earlier in the month to try out- obviously- but despite the stress, the cooking helped to ease my frayed nerves as nothing else would. The kitchen was so easy to use; the instruments were a chef's dream. In my old restaurant- the one I'd used with Mara and Fred- I'd had minimal equipment and had had to adapt. This felt like slipping off the leash- and I'd only just begun.

Marilyn and I had the opportunity to banter over the smoked-salmon and parsley canapés we were making- it was weird working with a woman, however sexist that might seem. They didn't normally make it into catering unless they were really tough- but the American proved to be the exception, witty and hard working, with a wry sense of humour. We got on like a house on fire- and earned more than a few jealous looks from Mark.

"I think that's almost all of them done." She told me at about nine o'clock that night. We'd been preparing infinite amounts of canapés for the following day and arranging them on platters for the guests to stuff daintily into their mouths. Roberto had forbidden us to leave until they'd all been done; now, about four hours later, we were just about there.

"Thank God. In fact, thank God and all his assorted minions." I arranged one of the last canapés just-so on the plate, eyes blurry from staring at the same thing for countless hours.

"You can say that again." She agreed. "So...your friend Mark."

I looked up, surprised. "Yeah...my friend Mark."

"I wanted to know...well, is he single?" She asked bluntly. She moved fast; this was only the first day. My eyes popped with surprise, and then I swallowed nervously; Mark would probably kill me if I messed this up for him. I wasn't sure I was ready for that kind of life-and-death responsibility.

"Yes. And interested. I guess."

"Wow. That's frank."

"So are you." I twiddled my fingers nervously...and turned a salmon canapé into the first-ever gourmet salmon pancake. "Oh...shoot!"

She giggled. "Don't worry. I don't think anyone saw you."

"Fancy an ultra-posh salmon pancake?"

"Don't mind if I do." Marilyn grinned, understanding me perfectly. Within two seconds, it had vanished.

"I'll finish packing up." I told her. "Go on; I'll take the tray to the serving trolley outside."

"Really? You're a star." She told me.

"You're doing it tomorrow. Go and find Mark."

"Ha. One word to him and you're dead, Kiwi."

"Cheers, Yankee. Go on before I change my mind."

She waved and left, leaving me with an extremely heavy tray of salmon. By dint of much swearing and balancing, I got the platter off the table and dumped it onto the serving trolley which was standing patiently by the door.

The guests had retired into the main mansion for more drinking or wherever they were doing by now, so I felt justified in taking a short stroll through the just-about deserted garden. We'd each received a whole volume on The Rules from Vincetti, one of which I suspected was Thou Shalt Not Tread On Grass Which Has Been Touched By The Upper Class, but fortunately, I hadn't read them. I wasn't on night-shift (thank God) so the cool night air would help me to wind-down, big time. Pulling off my chef's whites in favour of a jeans and t-shirt underneath, I headed around to the front of the house. The marquee glowed from its spot on the lawn, a fabric ghost against the black grass backdrop. I slung off my shoes, placed my feet delicately onto the cool turf, and kneaded the mud between my toes. The cold and the _silence_, after umpteen hours shut away in that tiny block, was heaven in my ears. It was blissfully quiet; I closed my eyes and listened to the rustling of the trees.

My phone rang.

I jumped, swore and jammed a hand into my pocket, fishing it out with some difficulty. Blearily, I stabbed the 'accept' button and held it to my ear. Who the hell could be calling at this time of night?

"Tommy! Sorry, did I call too late? I'm lucky I've got reception, to be honest."

"Mara." I exhaled as my sister's light voice floated down the crackling phone line. "No, no, it's fine. You've deprived me of precious sleeping hours, disrupted my sleep patterns and caused immense psychological trauma, but yes, it's fine. What's up?"

"My sarcasm radar is tingling, mister. Well, I actually called to see how _you _were, but fine. Yeah, things are great here-"

"Remind me where 'here' is again?"

A sigh. "Spain. Duh."

"Of course. Silly me."

"Shut up, you! Things are great in _Segovia__," _she stressed, a grin in her voice, "We went to go and see the Roman acqueduct today. Can you believe it? It was crazy to see it, Tommy- to think that actual people built it 2000 years ago! Except I was only thinking that _afterwards- _while I was there I was terrified of smashing the whole place up. Ruins are so _fragile_."

"Yes, they tend to be." I said dryly, recalling numerous occasions involving Mara's somewhat explosive temperament. I could only hope that the buildings had survived intact.

"Shush! How are things in Kiwiland?"

"Could be better." I started, and then hesitated. Did I want to drag my sister into this? "Mara, what do you know about Rufi Vincetti?"

"What? Uh, he owns a lot of restaurants, he's filthy rich, he's running for Italian President and he spoils his daughter rotten."

"Again with the daughter." I muttered. This girl had a serious reputation.

"What? Why do you want to know?"

"Because I'm cooking for his gala. At his secondary- or third or umpteenth- home in New Zealand. I'm mixing with the posh lot." If 'mixing' counted as preparing their food for them.

"_Really_? You only said that your boss had hired you to do some cooking!"

"I _am _cooking. For the gala."

"Impressed." She said. "If you see a hot rich lad, tell him you've got a sister who's keen and single."

"You're not." I pointed out. "And Will's not too badly off himself, is he?"

"I'm paying for my accommodation." She said stiffly. "Working night-shifts at a bar at the moment."

"Glad to see the power's not gone to your head, then. What you gonna do after you stop travelling?"

"Join Greenpeace. Start World War Three. I don't know," she sighed, "I don't want to spend too much money on travel. I want to settle down for a bit, you know? Perhaps go and check out America after Italy. Or, even better, move to France."

"Thumbs up for Chicago." I told her. "It's two hundred miles by car, you've got a tank full of gas, it'll be dark...and wear sunglasses, won't you?"

"Hit it."

"Exactly."

I grinned, enjoying hearing my sister's voice- even if it _was _halfway across the world and the reception was a bit crackly. Blood was thicker than water...it stretched all the way across the Atlantic and Pacific.

Just then, I saw a group of young adults heading out across the lawn. The laughing, screaming, and designer attire confirmed that they were both very drunk and the people that I was simultaneously trying to cater for and avoid.

"Better go, sis. Catch you later."

"What? Why?"

"Customer dissatisfaction."

"They're dissatisfied with you?"

"Other way around. Have fun in Naples!"

And I clicked the phone off, slipping it into my pocket. Snatching up my shoes, I moved further into the shadows, but-

"Hey, you!"

Oh, great. I froze, turning slowly on the spot like some kind of marionette. If I ran away, it would be the worse for me- even though every cell was screaming out to do just that. "Yes?"

There were only four of them, all dressed up for the evening. The person who'd shouted seemed to be the leader: tall, aggressively male, blond and handsome- the Hollister boy. Wine had flushed his pale cheeks, splotched like cherry sorbet on vanilla ice cream. A girl clung adoringly to his coat jacket, her blue dress skewed worryingly, and a cigarette dangled nonchalantly from one hand. As I watched, he took a deep drag, spewing smoke from his nostrils.

"Who...are you, boy?"

_Boy!? I was the same age as him! _"Nobody."

"Too right you are." The others behind him sniggered; I gritted my teeth. This didn't have to be a power play, but he was making it into one. The wine- or, perhaps, vodka, plus tobacco, had addled his brains to the point of idiocy, and I was now in the firing line. I cursed myself for being so stupid.

"Anything else you want to tell me?" I asked.

His face darkened. "You arrogant bastard. Wait...til Rosa's man comes. He'll smash your face in. Or those men, in dark suits. Eh, lads?"

The lads sniggered. I didn't.

"Oh, really."

"Yeah. Scared now, aren't you?" He smirked at me. "They told me that they have a special little surprise in store for you..."

This was sounding oddly familiar...

A couple of swear words followed that one, and the party giggled. There was only one other boy with them, and he didn't seem to have drunk as much as the rest of them- at any rate, he was staying well back from the fray. The girls, though, cheered stupidly, egging him on, and his chest swelled with pride.

"Do you know something? My dad trained me in sword fighting."

"How nice for you." For how long- a minute, or two?

"You know, I don't like you. You cocky...I'll teach you a lesson. Who are you? You're a nobody! Is that what you want? _Is it?!_" And then, without warning, he launched himself at me, fists flailing in a drunken rage. Caught by surprise, I went down like a stone, slamming hard into the packed ground with Hollister boy slamming his fists into my chest and the ground at alternate intervals.

I swore briefly between flowerings of pain- this was going to cost me my job- and grabbed his hand, twisting the fingers as far back as they would go without breaking them. He screamed; I used the moment to buck and chuck him off me. He came at me again within a second, though, while I was still on the floor- a fist jabbed through the air, which I blocked with a flung-up forearm. He wasn't finished, though: a kick followed hot on its heels. I rolled, grabbed his other leg and used his momentum to throw him onto the ground.

I hadn't gone on multiple missions completely undefended.

For a moment, I lay there gasping while the girls screamed with excitement. _Pain is only a message. _And right now, I was holding all calls. I vaulted myself off the grass and staggered upright, head ringing. I needed to get out, and fast. But there was something I needed to do first...

I made my way over to the groaning boy in the near-dark, knelt beside his head, placed a knee on his chest and grabbed both his hands so he couldn't punch me again. He struggled and swore; I held firm. "What do you know about the men in dark suits?"

"Eff off..."

"_Tell me! Tell me, now!" _

"Only...businessmen! They didn't say anything about you! They said they were working for Rosa's lad! Get off, _get off_!"

"What's going on?" The voice was sharp enough to cut glass, and I groaned internally. The voice belonged to Rosa Vincetti. "Who are you? Get off Brett or I'll call the cops!"

Brett? I looked down at the drunkard. Oh, him. What a name.

Slowly, I let go of him. He slumped to the floor, groaning and yelling at intervals. He was going to have one hell of a headache in the morning- and a bruise, if his fingers were anything to go by.

"Fine." I muttered, voice low. I reached down and picked up my trainers- my innocent walk in the park had become disastrous.

"Do I know you?"

If she did, I was going to be fired. Slowly, slowly, I edged away, trying to put some space between us.

"Wait...Al?" Who the hell was Al? I edged further away, toes scrabbling for traction on the grass and mud. She followed; I backed off still further.

My nerve broke; I turned tail, and sprinted as fast as I could for the woods.

"Stop!"

Fat chance. I revved up my speed, racing flat-out over the ground. I was faster than Fred, faster than Mara...I was a cheetah, and nobody could catch me. The forest came closer...what little I could hear over the pounding of my feet and heart was the screaming of the bimbo-girls, the yelling of Brett, and...

_Whoomph._

Something crashed into my back, and, for the second time in as many minutes, I was sent together several swear words together into one, rather ugly sentence, I rolled as my poor, bruised head hit the ground and stars winked behind my eyes.

"What the-"

"_Thomas Cooper. Again!_"

My personal demon. I spat out a mouthful of grass and heaved myself up onto my elbows. Rosa Vincetti was lying sprawled onto the lawn next to me, heels clenched in one hand and grass stains all up her (undoubtedly Armani) jeans. Her leather jacket had slipped off one shoulder, revealing a vast expanse of latte-brown skin. All together, she was very distracting- and even worse for my health, considering the fall I'd just taken.

I couldn't think past my pounding headache. "Uh-huh?"

"Why..." she panted, shoving a tumble of hair out of her eyes, "_Why _are you assaulting my guests?"

"He attacked me first." I mumbled.

"_Brett?"_

"Sure. He was legless, and angry with it."

"Yeah- and then you pulled some karate moves on him. I saw you. You fight like a ninja." When she wasn't yelling or snarling, her voice was extremely melodious, with a hint of Italian in her accent. Unsurprising, given that her dad had probably brought her up there.

"Thanks." I said flippantly.

"That wasn't a compliment."

"You were impressed, weren't you?" I leaned my head against the cool grass, watching the stars wheel in the night sky above. I wasn't in the mood for banter.

"No. But he probably deserved it." She snorted reluctantly; I grinned in response.

For a moment, we sat together in the grass, enjoying the quiet- except for Brett's cursing and the shrieks of his lady friends.

"Will Brett be alright? You didn't beat him up too badly, did you, tough guy?"

"He'll have some bruised fingers tomorrow morning. I didn't mean to hurt him too badly..." I bit my lip. She laughed.

"With any luck, he'll have forgotten all about it by tomorrow morning."  
"You're...not going to fire me, are you?" The question that should have been uppermost in my mind only chose this moment to surface, along with a good dollop of worry.

"Don't worry...unless." I cursed my big mouth. "You tell me everything you know about the-what's that?"

I'd heard it too- sound carried on the still night air. Two short, sharp _snaps, _like twigs being stood on by something heavy. A person, to be exact.

We were being watched.


	4. Revelations

Our heads both turned towards the short, sharp _snaps, _like twigs being stood on by something heavy. A person, to be exact.

Rosa Vincetti's eyes were like two saucers in her face. Biting my lip, I stood up slowly- trying not to make any sound- and padded my way over the grass to where the forest-line started. I'd probably stand a better chance in bare feet, not counting the splinters.

"I'll go this way." I whispered. "You don't have to follow me."

She snorted quietly, and gestured for me to continue. I recognised the 'don't be stupid' look from many years spent arguing with my sister. I raised both eyebrows, and tiptoed into the leafy mulch on the forest floor, eyes and ears straining for the slightest sound or shape that was out of the norm.

There were a couple more crackles and snaps- further away. This person was trying to run away! I sped up, creeping quickly through the tree trunks, trying to see who it was- not a guest, of that I was certain. Why would a guest go to so much trouble to keep hidden?

I skidded to a stop in the forest floor, trying desperately to get my bearings in the almost pitch blackness.

Then the scream hit me.

Literally. One minute I was breathing hard and trying to look around and the next, I couldn't see straight as the yell took sonic bites out of my brain.

"Agh!" I clutched my head, pressing both palms into my temples, trying to drown out the noise. What was happening? Why was my head spinning? I abandoned trying to find the path- never done lightly- to try and battle the screeching inside my head- clapping both hands over my ears and almost bending double from the pain.

Why couldn't anyone else hear? Were they stone deaf? Right now, though, I couldn't be bothered with the others... all I wanted was quiet! Quiet, _quiet!_

Almost coincidentally, the noise vanished.

I staggered, eardrums ringing viciously, and slapped a hand on the tree for support. I heaved deep breaths, like a drowning man coming up for air, and tried to steady my shaking hands. Woods. I was in a forest- my employer's forest- and I'd been following someone.

What had _that _been?

Where was Rosa?

I leant against the trunk- my knees were wobbling- clapped a hand to my forehead- which was throbbing slightly- and tried to _think._ The only experience I had of sonic screams wasn't exactly mine; my sister Mara had subconsciously screamed when she'd gotten shot (long story, one she hadn't fully told me yet) and had ended up finding her Soulfinder because of it. I brushed aside the flare of jealousy and came to one conclusion: someone-a Savant, presumably- must be in serious trouble.

I cast a longing half-glance towards the deeper forest, and stood up, swaying slightly. Saving lives trumped finding out a potential stalker, sadly-and I had to see if I could at least do something.

Whatever the case, it was now down to a man dressed all in a jeans and t-shirt- some superhero, eh?- to find a potential banshee in the immediate vicinity.

Now, where had the scream come from?

I glanced around helplessly. It had to have been close by, judging by the volume of the shriek...and it had to have been telepathic. Plus strong enough to register in my telepathy-dulled brain...so, fairly close. I mustered whatever skills had remained from my time in the Savant Net and put my rather dusty thinking cap on. Nobody would attack on the lawn, even if it was night-time...so, probably in the shrubbery. Near here, in fact.

Either fortunately or unfortunately, I struck gold. A couple of footsteps into the trees, I could just about make out a rather burly looking man, who was towering over something- and judging by the way he aggressively held himself, it was something alive. A precisely-timed whimper confirmed this: it sounded like a girl!

Oh no...a sick feeling settled in the gut of my stomach. It was Rosa Vincetti, wasn't it? She'd been the only other one in the woods. The stalker had doubled back and caught her...attacked her.

And I had to take on this guy _alone? _

Heart in my mouth, I stepped forwards, over a tangle of roots- on the edge of the forest line, where the kitchen block was still visible. Probably, it wasn't the most sensible thing to have done. Definitely, in fact. Because at the sound of my footstep, the guy turned, saw me, displayed an impressive amount of snarling teeth, and generally looked aggressive.

"What do you want?"

I swallowed. Hard. "What are you doing here?"

He snorted at that, and shrugged a shoulder. "My job. Just carrying a message for little miss's father here." Behind him, Rosa whimpered faintly.

What kind of job involved beating up defenceless women? Who did he work for...the men we'd seen yesterday? This definitely wasn't your average mugging. If it was, he'd have scarpered when I came along, in fear of the police.

Just my luck.

"Leave." To my surprise, he spoke up again. "Leave, or I'll make you leave."

"Not until you leave the girl alone."

A shifty smile. "I'm not finished with her yet."

"No!" I was almost certain she was the fabled screamer...which meant she was a Savant. Rosa Vincetti. A Savant. My boss's daughter. What were the odds?! Wherever I went, they seemed to pop up like moles! I was guessing that this guy, then, was on some kind of anti-Savant agenda...I didn't know. But I did know that he spelt bad news for her. And, sadly for me- no matter how much I disliked her- my conscience wouldn't let that go.

"No?" The guy smiled, displaying an impressive array of yellowed teeth. I was suddenly very aware of the rippling muscles straining his shirt. "You can't stop me."

And then he pulled out a bicycle chain and started flicking it aimlessly from palm to palm- a coiled, oily snake. I'd had enough experience with Mara to know that those things could break bones in the wrong hands, and I didn't even have a handy power to defend myself with. Typical.

I mustered the few defence skills I'd bothered to learn from the Net, but-

He charged me, chain flicking towards my face. Swallowing a scream, I leapt sideways, sticking out my leg and praying. The bicycle chain whipped across my cheek like a blade, smashing my head to the side. Pain flamed into life on my skin, but I didn't yell. I knew pain; I'd dealt with it before. We were good buddies. I could handle this.

The guy didn't take the hint, though- he tripped over my leg and went sprawling across the dank forest floor, landing with a nasty _splotch. _I leaped after him, grabbing both arms and twisting them painfully far up his back. He yelled; I gritted my teeth, didn't let go, despite his thrashing.

The door to the kitchen burst open, spilling bars of buttery light across the leaf mulch as the chefs heard the racket and came crashing outside, and then a couple of metres into the forest. What they saw- me wrestling a man to the ground- would probably condemn me as a social pariah in that place for the rest of my time there.

"Tom..." For once, Mark had no words.

"Help me!" I ground out, fighting against the bucking man. "Quick..."

Several others- who had more presence of mind- rushed to help-but as fast as greased lightning, he bucked, flipping me off his back and into the undergrowth. Whilst the others yelled and swore, he bounced lightly to his feet, leaned in towards Rosa Vincetti, hissed something into her ear, and was off like a bat out of hell. I let my head fall back against the ground, and saw stars. Typical.

Then I remembered the girl behind me.

Slowly, I heaved myself upright, and turned on the wet forest floor, knees soaking through my jeans. There was something warm running down my cheek- blood and oil.

The small, huddled figure was only just visible at the end of my line of vision, tucked away at the base of a tree. Whilst the other men swore and attempted to follow the attacker, I walked towards her- on the balls of my feet, quietly as possible. She was sprawled amongst the roots of some kind of tree, a purple bruise flowering against the side of her head. He'd missed her temple by about two centimetres.

"Are you alright?" I asked her gently- in a spooked-animal kind of voice. Never mind that she had more latent power than me. "It's alright now- you're safe."

Rosa Vincetti didn't answer.

I walked up until I was about a metre away, and then slowly levered myself into a crouch, muscles groaning, until we were at eye level. "Hey. Rosa. Ms Vincetti. It's alright. The guy's legged it. Don't worry, though; I beat him up good and proper."

She half-smiled at that, and that made me feel good. Looking at her pupils- dilated as hell- she was probably in shock. Not a surprise- and nothing that hot chocolate couldn't remedy. Weirdly, I wanted to look after her, make sure she was alright. Weird, because she was one of the prickliest people I'd ever met.

"Come on." I told her. "Let's get you out of here. Fancy some hot chocolate? It's on the house." Her eyes widened, asking a question- and she seemed to expect some sort of response. "Come on, I only need to check that you're not hurt."  
The others simply stared at me as I took her wrist- an electric current exploded up my arm- and gently led her away back through the woods, around the back and into the kitchen. Once in the light, I took a step back and studied her. She didn't look too bad: her clothes were smeared with mud and her hair was tangled, but no broken bones. Just shock, thank goodness. I could deal with shock. The chefs had obviously been shutting the kitchen down, but that didn't matter. They weren't back yet, anyway.

"No bruises? Cuts?" She shook her head. "Good. Well, sit there, and I'll make you the hot chocolate."

She sat obediently on the gleaming tabletop-the kitchen was still empty, thank goodness- whilst I headed to the fridge and fetched a chocolate bar, milk, cinnamon and cream. And brandy. The mixing and preparing was soothing on my frayed nerves. But then another part of the confrontation popped into my head- and came straight through my mouth.

"You're a Savant."

"_Quale_?"

"You have power. Can do magic...I can't believe this!" I was half-talking to myself. "I've only been here two days and I've already seen three Savants. What are the odds?"

"_What are you talking about_?"

I froze. Did she not know...was she _not _the Savant? In which case had I been spilling my guts like an idiot to someone who'd think I was_ insane_? I felt dread settle like a stone in the pit of my stomach.

"Forget it. Sorry. Mistake."

"It was _not._" She suddenly grabbed my arm and spun me around, so that we were face to face. Her eyes were huge in the kitchen light...she looked freaked out beyond the realms of the reasonable. "Say that again."

"Uhhh..."

"Did you say magic?"

"No..."

"You've said you've seen three. Are there more of us?"

Completely nonplussed, I stared at her.

"Tell me." She begged. "I don't even know what I am. My own father calls me a freak. My friends don't even know. I'm not the only one...am I?"

Several things suddenly slotted into place. The rumour-mill of the staff, the whispers that her mother had been a witch, her loneliness, her behaviour around her father...even the prickliness was explained. Call it gut instinct; call it the remainders of my power, but the truth was written across her face, plain as daylight.

"Let me finish the hot chocolate."

It was almost done anyway. Carefully, I took the boiling milk off the hob and stirred the chocolate shavings into it. It all went into a mug with a generous helping of cinnamon and nutmeg. I splashed some brandy in- for the shock- stirred vigorously, and gave her the mug. She was almost hopping with impatience as I carried it through into the staff canteen, and plonked it down. "Enjoy."

She took a gulp, and her eyes widened. "Wow."

"Thanks."

"You fight like a ninja. Seriously, though: where did you pick that up from?"

"Had some lessons from about ten onwards. Not too many, but enough for me to hold my own." Hal, the man from the Savant Net, had taught me and Fred for a couple of years. Fred had quit early on, but I'd carried on for a while, wanting to be as prepared as possible when I actually started out.

"I'm impressed. But still...lay off my guests."

"He'd just...let something slip about...the men we saw in your dad's office yesterday."

"Oh. What?"

"That they were working for your 'lad'." I said apologetically.

If I was expecting an explosion, I was surprised. She just laughed, and shrugged an elegant shoulder. "Brett's just jealous. He's tried it on several times, but I told him where to go. I don't see him much, but Al wouldn't hurt a fly."  
"Oh, right."

"Jealous?"

"Do you want me to be?"

"I don't know." She said. I looked quickly at her face, but she seemed entirely serious.

"Thanks."

"What did the man tell you?" I asked. She swallowed nervously.

"He told me...to tell my dad...that what happened to me was a warning...for him to behave." She bit her lip viciously, eyes dangerously bright, and knocked back a couple more swallows- the need for sugar taking over as the shock kicked in- before facing me with those intense hazel eyes. Then she changed the subject abruptly.

"Right. You said magic."  
I also wanted to know more about the attack. And that I didn't want her to know about my world. But the fact she was a Savant- and that she'd been attacked- turned the tables completely. I gave in temporarily; there were worse things that finding out that you weren't a freak.

"Yes. I did."

"_Que è pazzo! _Am I the only one?"

"No. There are hundreds- thousands, I dunno- of us. You. You're called a Savant. You can do magic- generally only one power, but perhaps two, of varying strengths. I know people who can see emotions, or who can bring a house down." A concrete bunker, to be precise.

"Are you magic? Savant, whatever."

"I was." I told her reluctantly. "Virus took the power away."

"Before that, what could you do?"

"I was a truthteller." Time to turn the tables. "What can you do?"

It was her turn to bite her lip. I guessed she was so used to keeping it locked away that it was hard to confess her darkest secret- to a complete stranger, no less.

"Move things around without touching them."

"Telekinesis. Okay, cool. Can you do that now?"

In answer, her mug jerked awkwardly to the left. I knew enough to recognise that she had absolutely no idea of how to control it.

"Awesome. Anything else?"

"No. Well, sometimes..." She bit her lip. "I can enhance radio signals, television, lights, sometimes..."

I had no clue what that meant with that. "Okay. Telekinesis is a fairly common power. Not sure about the other one. Power flux, perhaps? Work on that. You should be able to read minds, too. Talk to other Savants mentally."

I looked to see whether she was in danger of passing out, but she seemed to be drinking the information in. "You?"

"I heard you scream in my head."

"Can I try now?"

"Later, maybe." I looked at her. Something had changed since I'd last seen her. She looked- somehow more _alive, _more _vital. _Her eyes glowed; her skin shone. Every gesture was full of confidence- elegance, even. Perhaps it was the thrill of finding out new information that animated her so much- I'd heard she'd gone to Cambridge, though whether she'd stayed on or not was a different matter.

"What about the other men?"

Slowly, while she drank her hot chocolate, I explained about the Savant Net, the criminal ring, our last encounter with her- basically the whole story with Mara. I left out the bit about Soulfinders- she was new to this, and probably the idea of one true love and all that tosh would be-forget culture shock, more like culture electrocution.

"Wow." She said eventually. The combined hot chocolate, relief at having escaped the thug unharmed, and the full-on confessions had created a cosy, comfortable atmosphere. "I only expected a party...then you start ninja-ing about, and then I'm neck deep in everything! How did you not scream when that man slashed your face?"

She reached up and touched my cheek, where the bicycle chain had cut. It tingled furiously, and my cheek warmed considerably. The blood should have dried, but there might be a scar.

"I'm a man!" I said mock-offended. She laughed.

"I've seen grown men cry like hosepipes when someone stood on their foot! _Dio mio, _you took a real beating!"

I shrugged. "My sister. Her power- she blows things up. It got out of control a lot- we both got hurt. I've kind of had to deal with it. No biggie."

"You're the original traumatised child, aren't you?"

"Of course. Murky background, awesome karate skills, mysterious but handsome...what's not to like?"

"And what about these people we saw in my dad's office?" I marvelled at how quickly 'I' had turned to 'we'. "What are they up to?"

"Nothing good, I don't think. What deal's your dad doing?"

"Well, he wants to sell the business. I didn't know at the time- that's why I snuck into his office, too. I wanted to find out why he was being so secretive and moody...what can those men offer him? And what do they want?"

"I don't know; I'm just an extra chef. Well, I'd better get to bed. It's late; I'm going to be dead on my feet tomorrow."

"Wait!" She grabbed my arm. "I haven't found out everything yet! I'm not done with you!"  
I could see from her face that it was true. "What more is there to tell?"

"Everything! Plus, we both want to know what those men are planning." She raised an eyebrow challengingly. "I want to save my dad; you want to stop those men. We can help each other."

"How?" I asked warily.

"Well, when's your lunch break?"

I shrugged. "I'm off all tomorrow until four- doing the night shift instead."

"Okay, meet me tomorrow at about ten o'clock at the back entrance to the house. We can have a look at my dad's office again. Okay?" She gripped my wrist hard, sending sparks up my arm. I could read her expressions- see the vulnerability and hope hiding behind her features-with such clarity it was almost as though I had my power back again.

"Fine."

"Nice one. And, Thomas?"

It was the first time she'd used my name. It sounded good coming off her tongue- fluid and melodic in her slightly-foreign accent.

I decided to return the favour. "Yes, Rosa?"

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Any time you want a ninja, I'm here."

I grinned, and showed her out the back door.


	5. Snooping

"Hey, Thomas, my man!" Mark leapt up excitedly when I stumbled into the bedroom at some ungodly hour in the morning. After Rosa had left, I'd only stayed long enough to clean up the mess, before heading for my bedroom, anticipating a much-needed night's sleep. Sadly, due to my mouthy roommate, I suspected that wasn't going to come any time soon.

"Hey, Mark."

"Is that all you have to say? 'Hey'? Excuse me, Tom, but you have a hell of a lot of explaining to do!"

I sighed internally. "How much caffeine did you have?"

"About three cups, but that's not my point." Mark threw himself back onto his bed again, stretching and pillowing his head on his arms. "My point _is_, why did you get attacked by a random dude when you were walking in the woods with the boss's _freaking daughter_?"

"Ah."

"Yes, ah!" Mark widened his eyes dramatically. "I don't care how tired you are. Crikey, mate, it's every guy's dream. Hot girl. Chance to save her ass. Spill!"

"What happened to the guy?"

"What, after we heard a yell and ran outside to see you two wrestling? He ran off."

"You didn't find him?"

"Nope." Mark shrugged apologetically. "We searched the woods, but nope. He was probably some nutter wanting a piece of Ms. Vincetti...which brings me back to my point. How much encouragement do you _want_? What were you _doing? __Spill!"_

I rubbed my eyes and flumped down onto the mattress, wondering how exactly I was going to put this. "Not much. She...uh...saw me on the lawn and wanted to...tell me off 'cos I was intruding on her space. Then we heard some twigs snap and...she ran off to see what it was. I decided to follow...and then he attacked her."

The lie fell between us with an almighty clatter; if Mark didn't hear the false note in my voice he was deaf. But, then again, what other explanation was there? Rosa shouldn't know me from Adam...unless she was attempting a spot of extreme flirting (unlikely, seeing as I wasn't exactly worthy of gracing the next cover of Vogue or whatever), there wasn't another reason. Ha.

Mark frowned. I had to sideline him. Fast.

"How did it go with Marilyn?"

He brightened almost immediately. "Good, good. I...well, I asked her out for a coffee. Tomorrow. During free time- I got lunch off."

"Where?"

"Queenstown." He smirked. I goggled.

"That's a good thirty miles away!"

"Nothing's too much for my lovely Marilyn."

"Monroe, perhaps." I grumbled. "D'you have a car?"

"A bus goes every three hours or so from the nearest village. Okay, okay, I know! A lot could go wrong...but, to be fair, mate, how much fun can you have in a village? By the way, can I have your phone number, in case you need to collect us from Queenstown?"

"Yes, but you're not getting me to Queenstown. Get real. Anyway, what about a romantic walk?"

"What, after you and Vincetti's brat got attacked in the woods? Nuh-uh. Nice try, whatever you were doing in there." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "If I hadn't actually seen the guy, I would have assumed the worst."

"Oh yes. Real womaniser, me. Keep Marilyn away or she'll fall for me faster than a ton of bricks."

"Don't even consider it, boyo."

I smirked, threw down the scrap of paper I'd scribbled my number on, and collapsed onto the bed with a grateful sigh. I didn't hear the rest of what Mark said; I was out like a light.

* * *

I slept the sleep of the comatose that night, until the time that I had to drag myself out of bed after a blessedly long lie-in to face the new day. Needless to say, I was not a pretty sight that morning. The only good news was the time off, so at the required time (after a lengthy shower) I presented myself at the back door to her house, feeling butterflies jiggle around in my stomach while I waited.

It wasn't shut for long.

"Thomas!"

I turned to see her: my dark-haired nightmare, opening the door and smiling as though Christmas had come early. I was surprised to see her so happy; friends couldn't exactly be a new thing for her, could they?

"Okay, where do we-"

"Shhh!" She glanced around- quickly- and beckoned frantically. Confused, I followed her down the same corridor that I'd gone down a couple of days before. It felt weird, entering a house for the second time in order to snoop- like tempting fate. I could only hope that my rather doubtful guide knew what she was doing.

It seemed so: she led me up the same staircase that I'd sneaked up two days before, and right up to the door of her father's office. Was I ever going to get to see another room in this house? She stopped there.

"Okay?"

"Yes...yes." She took a deep breath. "_S__olo_...not used to sneaking around behind my father's back. He should be at the marquee now, overseeing preparations..."

"Nobody is." I gave her a reassuring smile- though of course I wouldn't know. I didn't really want to tread on her toes; she looked pretty uncertain as it was, and I wanted to take full advantage of the chance to snoop around. "Come on-let's get this over and done with."

I reached out and pushed gently on the wood, which swung smoothly on its hinges. And here we were again: in Papa Vincetti's HQ.

"Where do we start?" Now she was in, Rosa appeared to be clueless. If we were going to avoid being caught, it seemed I'd have to step up.

"You search the desk; I'll check the filing cabinet."

"Okay."

"Scared?"

"Shut up!"

"That's more like it." I grinned at her- our status as partners in crime officially cemented- and turned to the filing cabinet- which was a monstrously overstuffed affair that made me regret having picked it. Reluctantly, I picked up a couple of files and began to sift through them as fast as possible, feeling like an utter intruder. What caught my eye, though, started to become interesting. It seemed that some of Vincetti's ventures were floundering in debt: to be specific, the restaurant chain that had made him rich. And here was me, thinking that they'd been rock solid...quickly, I skimmed the top line. _Maximum Overdraft_, the bank statement screamed at me. Wow.

"Found anything?"

I gulped guiltily, feeling embarrassed. "Er, no...not as such."

"Well, hurry up!"

"Yes, ma'am. What about _you_?"

"A lot of blah about restaurant running costs and his new yacht business. Nothing special...wait!" Her voice rose in excitement. "I've found a safe!"

This man really kept his daughter in the dark. I stuffed the files back into the drawer and headed over to where she was peering into the depths of a drawer, where a lazy red eye winked at me above a generic keypad. "Okay, well, do you know the combination?"  
"My birthday?"

"Try it."

Rosa, hand shaking slightly, put her hand into the drawer and punched in the numbers...the red light stayed constant. "Not my birthday, then."

"Bank password? Do you know that?"  
"Yes, I have the same one. Wait...no."

I tried to think. Rufi Vincetti: a man, I predicted, devastated by his wife's death...I looked at the desk. One picture of a baby Rosa...five of the same woman in different locations. Greece, Rome, London, Paris...a laughing, darkly beautiful woman stared out from each frame with her penetrating hazel eyes. Her death date? No, too morbid by half. "Your mum's birthday?"

"No..."

"Just try it!"

"Don't shout at me! Okay, okay..."

Slowly- reluctantly- Rosa reached down, and keyed in the numbers. A hesitant pause, a hush-

"It's working!"

The light had flicked to green, and the lid popped open, revealing a sheaf of tightly-stacked documents. Rosa pulled them out and flipped through them with trembling fingers. Most were letters, from what I could see...concerning the Presidential Election. From what I could gather, it seemed that Mr Vincetti needed a bit of election help from a certain criminal ring...and money for his floundering restaurant.

Oh dear. He'd gone swimming with the sharks- the loan sharks, in this case. I bit my lip and studied the documents, trying to puzzle him a way out. Short of giving them back all of their money- causing bankruptcy- I couldn't see one.

"He wants to get election help." Rosa said disbelievingly. "He said that he wasn't interested in whether he won or not..."

"He looks pretty interested to me. What do they want in return?"

She scanned the documents. I watched her hazel eyes rove down the page, watched the tiny crease between her eyebrows and the slight purse of her lips that marked intense concentration.

"They want..." she raised both eyebrows. "They want fifty percent shares in his business and some prime governmental offices when he comes to power."

"He _agreed_?"

"Yes." She shook her head, nonplussed. "I didn't think he wanted this so much to give up half of his power to them as well..._dio mio._"

That was probably where the thug had come in- to show Vincetti exactly what he'd expect if he didn't deliver.

"Holy shit." I rubbed my palm across my eyes. "But...he doesn't have fifty percent to give them, does he?"

"No..." She said thoughtfully. "No, he doesn't. I think about forty percent is in shares. Well...there's forty percent in trust for me, for when I marry...but he can't take that! It's mine!"

"That doesn't mean he can't take it." I pointed out. "The world generally works in that way."

"No! I won't let him!" She squared her jaw determinedly.

"Easier said than...bugger that. We need to get out of here." Footsteps were reverberating down the corridor- loud, confident footsteps. It was R.V himself, and we were in deep trouble.

"Quick!" Rosa hissed, propelling me across the office and out of the door. Papers flew everywhere as she dragged me towards the exit. Unable to resist, I followed, hands pinwheeling like they were on pivots.

We made it out of the door, and shut it securely behind. I whuffed out a breath of relief, and started down the corridor, but-

"Hey! Stop!"

I turned to see Rufi Vincetti glaring a death-stare at me, eyes like chips of obsidian in his face. Absently, I wondered whether he spent time practising that glower in the mirror before trying it out on his hapless employees. Like me.

"Yes, Mr Vincetti?" I said, as politely as I could, given that I'd just been snooping through his office with his daughter.

"What are you doing in my house..._Rosa!_" He'd spotted his daughter. It then jumped into my mind that Vincetti probably thought I was in his house for a whole different reason...oh dear. "What is this _boy _doing in our house?"

Rosa squared her shoulders. "Papa, this is one of the sous-chefs. I was hungry, so I asked him to make me a snack."

"In his jeans and t-shirt? I don't think so." Vincetti moved forwards with all of the authority that came from being unchallenged master of the house for ten years. "Tell me the _truth_, Rosa Amarina!"

"It's true, Mr Vincetti. Er-sir." I said loudly. "I do work in the kitchens; Roberto knows me."

"Has she been filling your head with ideas? You'd better mind my daughter, _sir. _She's too fanciful for her own good-"

"He's teaching me about what I can do." Rosa blurted out.

Her father reeled backwards as though she'd slapped him. "You can do _nothing_! Do you hear me? _Nothing!_"

"I can! Mama could too-"

"Your mother filled your head with _rubbish_!" Vincetti roared. "_Rubbish! _She was mad, and you will be normal: you are the daughter of the next President, you were educated in Roedean, you went to Cambridge, and you will behave _normally_!"

"_I'm not normal!" _Rosa screamed. She grabbed my arm- a jolt of electricity sizzled up it. What was she going to do? I imagined the picture flying across the room. "Look-"

She must have read my mind, because at that exact moment, an unassuming picture which had been hanging on the far wall suddenly leapt into the air and soared across the carpeted hallway. Vincetti yelled and leapt forwards, swatting about a thousand pounds worth of oil paint from the air.

"_Get out of my sight_!"

"_You're _the freak." Rosa whispered, eyes swimming- and then turned tail and sprinted down the hallway. She turned the corner; a door banged.

Vincetti took several deep, heaving breaths. His eyes stared right past me, unseeing, after his daughter. He glanced once, twice at the portrait lying on the floor. Very slowly- very deliberately- he picked it up, and hung it on its rightful place on the far wall. Then he marched, stiff-legged, into his office, and banged the door shut. The lock clicked.

I was alone.

* * *

I stood in the corridor, shell-shocked. That was a family feud at its very bitterest, and I didn't quite feel comfortable immersing myself in another one. Instinct told me to make a break for it- to bolt out of the door and lie low for another day until the party ended.

But I couldn't leave Rosa.

And... at that point, a roar went up from the office: Vincetti must have discovered his secret documents lying all around the room. I had to beat it if I wanted to remain out of prison.

I make a break for it, sprinting down the carpeted hallway after Rosa. It didn't take too long to find out where she'd gone- the house wasn't _that _big. The large sign hanging over her bedroom door- a relic from her teenage years- was hanging askew, and the sounds of muffled sobbing came from within.

Gently, I tapped on the door. No answer. "Rosa?"

I gave her five seconds, and went in.


	6. An Unwelcome Interruption

Her bedroom was _huge._ I don't even mean in a 'room' sense, either: it was a high-ceilinged suite. Purple and blue were the predominant colours: blue carpet, purple king-size set. Sprays of colour decorated the far wall where someone-her, I thought- had painted poppies, forget-me-nots, cornflowers and a whole bunch of other flowers on the walls in bright, bold strokes. The floor-to-ceiling windows were flung open, letting the sweet summer air in, with views to the South Island Alps beyond. A blown-glass chandelier cast shadows across the room: light and airy, it couldn't be more different from the rest of the mansion.

Rosa crouched in the middle of the room, scrunched up into a tight little ball, rocking backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards. The wind teased strands of her hair across her face, hiding it from view and sticking to her skin where the tears had traced. Looking at her, there on the floor, was like looking into the raw soul- looking into a picture of grief. That argument with her father had stripped away all of her defences, undone her.

I knew how that felt. Hadn't I done the same when Mara had told me about Fred?

Almost unconsciously, I crossed the room and knelt beside her, knees squishing into the thick carpet weave. Cautiously, tentatively, I stretched out and hugged her, folding my arms completely around her body. She stiffened momentarily, and then melted into my hug, shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs.

"There, there." I said quietly, rocking her gently, and feeling completely awkward. "It's not so bad."

She said nothing, but her cries increased in volume.

What could I say? Nothing, I decided. Just hold her- be there for her. I could do that.

I did.

We must have sat there for about ten minutes, while she rebuilt her defences and recovered. Rejection by a family member hurt like hell.

Eventually, she gave a huge sniff, and swiped a hand across her eyes, getting rid of the matted hair. Her eyes were puffy. She was beautiful. "Sorry."

"Don't be." I shook my head, trying to get rid of the stray thought.

"Really, though." Rosa gave a shaky half-laugh. "I don't normally act like this."

"I know. I know how it feels."  
"Do you, though?" She gave me a hard stare from over the top of my arm. "All my life, I've thought I was crazy. My friends wouldn't...give me the time of day if they knew what I could do- I've had to hide myself for my whole life! I don't fit in- even my father knows that."

I rested my chin on top of her head. "My brother sold me and my sister out to the criminal ring." That popped out without my permission- we both drew in a shocked breath.

"What happened?"

I shrugged, embarrassed at the slip. "We worked for the Savant Net- fighting the criminals your dad's involved with. My brother turned out to be helping them. He was a scientist- the virus he was working on took away my power." I swallowed, trying to stay on the cold, hard facts. "My sister tracked him to the base he was working at. She brought the entire building down on top of him. He's dead now."

"_Dio_...I'm so sorry."

"No- don't be. I'm just saying I know how it feels."

"It just...sometimes, it hurts like a knife."

"Yes. Exactly." And the rest. After everything had happened, and I'd woken up, I'd felt numb, then so, so _angry. _At damn Fred, damn Mara, the whole goddamn world for not playing fair. Nobody had said anything, but even I could tell that I wasn't the same person I used to be. Eventually, I'd gotten over it. Eventually. Kind of.

Rosa looked at me, and gently reached up and touched the place where the man had slashed across my face with his bicycle chain. It tingled furiously, but not from pain. "That's going to scar." she whispered.

"I have several already." I said back, just as quietly.

A crease appeared between her eyebrows; I had a mad urge to smooth it away. "You're not bothered by that, are you?"

What could I say to _that_? "No. You get used to it."

"Some things you don't, though. Do you miss your power?"

I blinked at the unexpected question. "Sometimes. I miss not being able to read people's faces, to tell what they're thinking...I miss the things I took for granted then. But I'm out of the Savant Net now- which is good- well, more peaceful. I'm just glad cooking wasn't part of my gift."

"You could have hated me...so easily." She said quietly. "For having...well..."

"What I don't?" I shrugged. The thought had occurred to me before; I didn't really have an answer to it. "Well, I...dunno. I guess I learnt to like you before I learnt that you were a Savant. Lucky for you."

"Otherwise I wouldn't have tasted your hot chocolate."

"Tragedy."

"Hey!"

She scowled up at me, and I held my hands up in surrender. "Well, you did say it was the best you'd ever tasted!"

"Don't get complacent."

"Uhhh...wouldn't dream of it." Absently, I reached forwards and smoothed my thumb across the crease between her eyebrows. Her breathing hitched; we stared at each other. I was drowning in hazel, couldn't think beyond her hay-and-roses perfume.

My phone rang.

Muttering a swear word, I fished in my pocket and extracted my mobile. An unfamiliar number flashed up on screen...except I had a horribly good idea of who it was.

"Hello?"

"Tom, buddy, how you doing?"

Mentally cursing Mark to seventh hell and back for his sense of timing, I leaned back slightly and took a deep, steadying breath, which I needed. "What's going on?"

"We...uh...missed the bus." Mark said sheepishly. Beside me, Rosa had gotten hold of a strand of hair and was twisting it around her finger in a very distracting way. I made a superhuman effort to listen.

"And?"

"Well, I was wondering, if we paid for petrol..."

"Uh..." I glanced sideways at Rosa; she raised both eyebrows and brushed the end of the strand down my face like a paintbrush. I struggled to keep a straight face; failed, and snorted loudly. "Stop that!"

"I'm not joking! Oh...uh...you _with someone_?"

"Yeah..."

"Bring her too!" I had to admire Mark's staying power...and, who knew. Perhaps it was time Rosa saw more of New Zealand than clubs. Someone needed to show her the restaurants, for one thing.

"Okay, fine. Fine! I give in. But you pay!"

"Deal! Cheers, mate! Pick us up in ten? We're...Marilyn, where are we?"

As Mark fumbled with directions, I raised an eyebrow at Rosa, and mouthed "Fancy going out?"

"Where?" She stage-whispered back. I was starting to seriously like this girl.

"The lost and mysterious land of Queenstown. Found a hundred years ago by explorers...tourists who go vanish mysteriously due to a large concentration of excellent views, cafes and the luge."

"Just as well we only live down the road, then." She said lightly.

I grinned. "I should warn you, there's a catch..."

* * *

"So, who's this mystery girl?" Mark said cheerfully, opening the car door and jumping in. "Enough to melt your icy exterior...must be a real flirt. Hey, good-looking!"

Rosa, sitting shotgun, turned around in her seat and gave Mark the Killer Stare from Hell, Version Two. Mark stared blankly for a few seconds while his brain computed the facts- then his eyes practically fell out of his head, and he gulped, all of the colour leeching from his face.

"Hello." Rosa told him. "What did you say your name was?"

"Jesus..." Marilyn had gotten a face-full too. I turned my head to look out of the windscreen so that nobody could see me grinning.

"Not quite. Rosa Vincetti. Nice to meet you."

"Uh...likewise?" It came out more as a question- which was probably understandable. Mark and Marilyn were looking at me as though I'd taken leave of my senses- probably thinking kidnap or that the walk in the forest had been slightly more romantic than I'd made out. Made out being the operative words.

"Hey, guys." I said. "Rosa's coming along with me today. Hope you don't mind- you're paying petrol, after all."

"Yeah...no. Sure." Mark shot me a dumbfounded look in the mirror before turning to Rosa. Behind me, Marilyn folded her arms and leaned backwards in her seat. "So...uh. D'you like the food?"

"Of course." Rosa deadpanned. "I hear things can get...pretty lively in the kitchens, anyhow. Maybe I'll pop in for a visit someday."

"Only if you promise not to laugh at us wearing chef's whites." I told her. "Be a love and open the front drawer-there's a whole load of CDs in there...pick one and put it in, would you?"

"'Be a love'?" Rosa scrunched up her nose. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Expression. What would you rather? C'mon, be a sugarplum. CD."

"Nooooo." Mark moaned from the back. Beside him, Marilyn rolled her eyes, _sang froid _coming off her in waves. It seemed Mark's easy ability to get on with everyone was grating on her nerves when it came to the infamous Rosa. I bristled silently, my respect for her going down a few notches. "Don't listen to him. He only likes The Beatles and pop..."

"Oh dear." Rosa flipped through my collection. "What _is _this? No rap, no heavy metal, no rock..."

"There's rock and roll!"

"That's fifties!" She raised both eyebrows. "_Dio mio_. I'm going to have to educate you."

"Good luck with that." Mark piped up. "I think he's a dinosaur. Ever heard of 'time warp', Tom?"

"What are you talking about? It's the nineteen twenties, isn't it?"

"Exactly."

Rosa and Mark snorted loudly- in sync. That set me off, and after a couple of seconds, Marilyn joined in reluctantly. The sun shone; it seemed that this trip to Queenstown would turn out better than I'd thought.

It did. I dropped the M&M couple off on Frankton Road, with a promise to pick them up at three-ish (due to the fact I was on night duty at the party that night). As Mark slammed the door, Rosa turned to me with an impish expression.

"Where to, cabbie?"

I tried- and failed- not to grin. "You scared the living daylights out of Mark, you know!"

"He _was_ surprised, wasn't he?" She leant back in her seat and ran her hands through her hair. She was a world away from the sobbing girl I'd comforted only hours previously- the change was a bit startling. "I don't think his girlfriend liked me much."

"Don't take it personally."

"I've learnt not to." She shrugged. Did that mean she was a flirt, or that others thought she was? I broke the rapidly-lengthening awkward silence and revved the car.

"Right. First stop, food. Then luge."

"Of course." She grinned, and I punched her shoulder playfully.

"I'll have you know, I know the best places around here! The perks of having a chef as your guide."

"I'm learning to appreciate them."

"You'd better." I smirked, and went to find food- in other words, a small patisserie shop built a way out of the town, up into the side of the mountains that ringed the bay, just next to where the luge track started. It was quite cute, really: a small, log-cabinnish kind of place which just happened to sell exquisite pastries.

"I've never done this before." Rosa murmured as I swung the Fiat into an empty parking space.

"Never been to anywhere as down-market? Though, technically it's extremely up-market, seeing as we're about a hundred metres above the town centre."

"No." She prodded me in the chest. "I _meant, _anywhere like here...with you. Or a guy."

"Well." I said, after a pause which had sparks zipping through me, "They just don't know how to treat you. Come on."

Unconsciously- as if I was still dating Imogen- I stuck out my hand. Before I could realise what I was doing and retract it, Rosa had caught it. I wound my fingers around hers, checked her expression to see if she was okay with it, and saw anticipation, excitement and nerves scroll across her face.

"Ready?" I asked her, as though we were starting a marathon. And in a way- I had an inkling even then- we were starting something.

"I'm always ready." She smiled.

"Brace yourself for a taste explosion." I grinned, and, together, we stepped into the patisserie.


	7. Backchat

Inside, the café was small, cutesy, and vintage-themed. A huge display of cakes sat underneath their respective glass hoods on several shelves behind the counter, and little armchairs were grouped around low coffee tables in a casual, coffee-shop kind of style. A couple of people sat far away from the window, chatting loudly. And, of course-

"Oh! Look at the _view_!" Rosa gasped.

It was true. The benefits of having your business built into a mountainside- the pines cleared to reveal a stunning floor-to-ceiling-window vista of the sparkling bay and town below. I squeezed her hand- and then realised what I was doing and let go.

"Good, eh?"

"Amazing." She breathed. "I almost...well, I'd love to bring my sketchbook up here."

"You paint?" I don't know why that surprised me; I knew almost nothing about her. Something that I was intending to change in the next hour or so.

"Yeah..." Her mouth twisted ruefully. "Haven't done it much in the past few years...too busy partying, I guess."

"Maybe you can start again. Sketch...or whatever it is artists do. I'm pretty hopeless at art, to be honest." I shrugged.

She giggled. "Isn't cooking like art?"

"I had a friend who said that once. Didn't see it. You're too deep for me there."

Just then, the door to the kitchens banged open, and an apron-wearing, spatula-wielding cook strode into our midst. The broad Glaswegian accent and tattoos sprawling up his arms made him look like a member of the Scottish mafia. "Thomas! I thought I heard your dulcet tones!"

I recognised him immediately. "James! Talk of the devil! How're you doing, mate?" We'd worked in Wellington together for a while- before James had left to set up shop in Queenstown.

"Not too bad, not too bad. Business doing well; can't complain, eh. Like the place?" James grinned broadly, planting his feet firmly behind the counter and grinning with the kind of pride reserved for father-children relationships.

"The view's gorgeous. _E__ incredibile_." Rosa said fervently. James looked at her in surprise- and, I suspected, approval.

"Never was a truer word spoken." He nodded once, emphatically. "Who's this lovely young lady, Thomas?"

I started to make the introductions, but Rosa interrupted me, sticking her hand out, almost as though she expected it to be kissed. "Rosa...Smith."

"Thought hard about that one, didn't you, lass?" James twinkled at her. "You're one lucky man, Tom- this girl is way out of your league. If you're ever free, love..."

"Oh, we're not going out." I said quickly. "Just...coffee." It was probably time to change the subject. Not going out with Rosa I might be, but I didn't want James's tartan aura intruding into our strange fledgling relationship...friendship. "Come on, you flirt! Give us your best brew!"

"That's the way the land lies, is it?" James raised both eyebrows. "Bastard. I knew you were using me for my cake-baking skills."

"Professional envy, o amazing one. Can't help it."

The Amazing One snorted, and clapped me on the shoulder. I tried not to wince. "For that bit of flattery, half price. Cooking's like _art, _Thomas...don't roll your eyes! I can see you haven't changed a bit. Go on then; tea? Coffee?"

I glanced at Rosa. "Coffee, please. Strong and sweet. Plus...well, choose two or three of your best; I think the strawberry pavlova was_ just_ about up to scratch the last time round."

"Coming right up." He raised an eyebrow. "Go on then, don't keep the lady waiting."

I rolled my eyes at him; he smirked, and watched as Rosa made a beeline for the seat nearest the window. I ambled after her, hands in pockets.

"He's nice." She said, easing herself into one of the large, squishy armchairs. "You talked like you've been friends for ages."  
I shrugged. "Only knew him a couple of weeks. He's nice, though. Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Nothing. It's just- you get along with everyone, don't you?"

"Don't you?"

"Not always." She said enigmatically. Her long, elegant fingers twisted and untwisted themselves in her lap. "It's just...I'm a bit...well, most people don't like me too much."

I thought of Marilyn's reaction in the car. "You...well, you've got a bit of a reputation."

"From university." She said regretfully. "Cambridge...well, like all Unis, I guess. It's a bit of a wild place..."

"Just as well I didn't go, then."

Rosa looked me straight in the eyes. "What if I told you I spent most of my first year fuelled by cigarettes and drugs?"

I could see the lie written across her face; she was trying to shock me. Most probably, fuelled by alcohol. "I would say, 'Nice try; not true.' You're not getting rid of me that easily, Miss Vincetti. You're a very nice person...once people get to know you."

"You don't know me that well." She pointed out, biting her lip in a way that made me want to kiss her.

"Fine, then. We'll soon fix that." I cracked my fingers, one by one, all business. "Rosa Vincetti, welcome to the Cooper Mastermind. Answer all questions truthfully and honestly within a two-minute time limit. Your prize: the unwitting Thomas must pay for your coffee."

Rosa smiled widely. "Alright- bring it on. _Eccellente."_ She checked her watch dramatically. "Your time starts..._now!_"

I scrambled around in my head for questions. What did I want to _know_?

"Time's ticking."

"Aargh, demon woman!" I stabbed both hands through my hair. "Okay: where did you grow up?"

"Roma. A flat overlooking the Colosseum."  
"Go to school?"

"Roedean. Private school in England." Her mouth twisted ruefully. I understood that look all too well.

"Who raised you when you weren't at school?" I asked curiously.

"My mother." Her face closed. "Until I was...until I was thirteen. Cancer. Then my father..."

Woah! I took two major mental steps back from that subject area, and chose a safer-looking path.

"Favourite colour?" I asked randomly.

"Sunshine yellow. No, sky blue. No...the colour of the water in the bay down there...pass."

I smirked. She scowled. "Half your time's gone, mate."

"Turning native, are we, _mate_? No, don't answer that one! Uuh...do you like New Zealand?"

"I do now." She grinned, looking me directly in the eyes. A thrill of something that wasn't quite terror shot through me.

"Due to...?"

"Pass." Of course. Damn! What else...

"Favourite food."

"Why?"

"No backchat from the contestants! Professional interest."

"At the moment..." she said, looking around. "It's quiche."

"Quiche!" Announced James loudly, plonking a stuffed tray down on the table. I took in the coffee pot, minute quiche, Pavlova and coffee cake. "Am I good or am I good? Tell me I'm good."

"Wow." I said. "Where's the silver cutlery?"

"Watch it, you heathen." James smirked, and dusted his hands off. "There we go. Enjoy. The bill comes when you've finished...after it's too late to object."

The people sitting in the back of the cafe looked, alarmed, at their empty plates, before staring at James with some trepidation. He smirked. "Go on, then. Don't let me interrupt your...fun." He smirked even more, and I mentally cursed him to the seventh circle of hell and beyond.

"We will." Said Rosa. "Tom, I'm taking the quiche. It looks gorgeous."

"No chance." I said. "James's quiches are legendary...I want to see if I can duplicate the recipe."

"Go on, then." James challenged me. "Take a bite!"

"Fork, fork!" Rosa cried, watching me. "Take a fork!"

"Too late." I said, biting. An amazing variety of tastes flooded my tongue, and I closed my eyes. "Mmm..._mmmm..._"

"Look at him drool." Rosa laughed. I opened my eyes again and glared.

"Don't interrupt my culinary epiphany!"

"Ingredients?"

"Um...cheese, onion, obviously. Butter, cream, nutmeg...egg...this is_ good_, James."

"No amount of grovelling will get you the recipe."

"Please?"

"Never, laddie."

"Then leave." I commanded, grinning and pointing to the doors. "Get thee to a kitchen!"

James snorted at that, and bustled his way over to the hikers, who swallowed heavily and asked for the bill. Rosa watched him go. "That man is a force of nature."

"A tartan typhoon." I shot back.

"A Scottish storm."

"A ginger geyser."

Rosa burst out laughing. "_Ginger geyser_?"

"Hey, it was on the spot. Don't shoot me!"

"I might have to, for such a horrible metaphor." Rosa smiled widely. "Gotten over your cooking revelation?"

I smiled apologetically. "I guess you can tell I'm a bit of a nut."

"How did you get into...nuttiness?"

I considered the problem, fork digging absently into the coffee cake. "Uhh...after my mum...left. Well, my brother was about ten years older than us, so he moved us to the UK. He had a job, so he wasn't home much. And...well, I started cooking. I quite liked it. I got better at it. I set up a restaurant." Probably one of the hardest things I'd had to do was leave my own business, and set up shop working for somebody else again. I _liked _being the boss, and taking orders when you were used to giving them stung your pride like nothing else. One day I would be the owner again.

"_Did _you?"

"Yeah. Surprised?"

"Yes." Rosa considered me, lips pursed. A strand of hair fell in front of her eyes, and a sudden _want _flared up in me. I closed my eyes...I needed to remind myself that she wasn't _mine. _

"Tom. I was thinking...about what you told me last night. About..." Here she lowered her voice. "Magic. James, he's not...not..."

"A Savant?" I smothered a grin. "Not as far as I'm aware, no."

"Oh. OK. Well, I looked us up online."

"You're not too freaked out, then." I teased.

"Not so much freaked as relieved! I thought I was the only one for ages- that there was something wrong with me. Finding out differently was...well, a massive relief. But I wanted to know more."

"Did you find anything?"

"Not a word." She frowned, annoyed. "Well, a word. It's French for 'knowing', or 'expert'. That's it. But...where do we come from?"

"Let me tell you about the birds and the bees-"

"Not _that." _She scowled at me. "Where did it all start? Are you born with it? Is it like...a _malattia..._disease? Can we catch it? Who was the first?"

"Not a clue." Now she said it, I felt a bit stupid, really. Where _had _we come from?

"Do you have secret communities?"

"We have a Net." I said apologetically. "It's not like some...grand run-through-a-wall-into-a-hidden-platform kind of thing. We're not that common...we keep ourselves to ourselves...just like regular people, 'cept with an extra twist." Plus the Soulfinder thing. Was she Soulfinders with this guy-her boyfriend? It hurt to ask, but I had to. "What about Al?"

Something flickered and died in her eyes. "Oh." I gritted my teeth, feeling bad. "Well, I met him about a year ago. He was lovely, kind...but, I don't know. Something didn't...I thought I loved him." She said, puzzled, as though she'd only just realised something. "He said he was going to teach me how to drive."

"You can't _drive_?"

"I can ride!"

"That won't be any good in a zombie apocalypse. C'mon. Eat your Pavlova. I'll give ya a lesson."

"Will you?" Her face lit up.

"Sure." I put the fork down, surprised to see that the coffee cake had gone. "Where's..."

Rosa looked up innocently. I goggled.

"You little...you stole my cake!"

She shrugged. "Guilty. It tasted so good. Couldn't resist."

I shook my head. "What have I gotten myself into?"

"A driving lesson. Come on!" She leapt upwards, enthusiastically, food forgotten, and bounced towards the door. I made a rough estimate of the bill and chucked a twenty dollar note on the table. "Bye, James!"

"You've got your hands full with her." He commented, ambling over from the counter. We both watched as Rosa peered across the car park at the view, and lifted her face towards the sunshine.

"Yeah."

"Look after her." James slapped me on the back. "She's starry-eyed for you...and you for her, looks like. Imogen never made you smile like that."

"Shut up!" I punched his shoulder, which made him grin wider. "She's gotten me into a bloody driving lesson!"

"Good luck. Don't smash up the car park, you nut. Take your girl somewhere else." James raised both eyebrows, and watched me wave, and walk out of the café, towards my girl. Towards somebody else's girl.

* * *

We picked up M&M outside Queenstown, who were looking distinctly more loved-up than last time, and drove the thirty or so miles back to Vincetti Base. The driving lesson had gone- as you might expect from someone who had never sat in the driver's seat before- catastrophically. I didn't think my gearbox would ever recover from the strain.

"Home at last." Rosa sighed, watching the scenery scroll past as we drove through the back gates. "Who are those?"

"Looks like those black suits again." I said, squinting through the window and feeling my stomach do a backflip at the sight of the bald man. But what could I do now? I'd have to attack him directly...and get fired. Damn. What were they up to? Something told me I'd find out sooner than I'd have liked. Tonight, maybe.

As soon as I swung the Peugeot into my parking space, Marilyn was out. "See you, Tom."

"Bye." I graced her with one short, sharp word. Mark mumbled something similar apologetically, and leapt after his girlfriend-well, I'd get the details tonight whether I wanted them or not.

"Right." I said into the sudden silence.

A horn blasted outside the window, and we both jumped.

"_Rooo...saaaaa!" _A well-bred voice roared through the open window. "Come on, I know you're in there!"

'Roooosaaaaa' said a very unladylike word, and swung the door open. I blinked, annoyed, at the unexpected cold as she waved at the girl standing on the front steps to the mansion: tall, slender, wearing about a grand's worth of jewellery.

"Coming, Camilla!"

"Your party's starting in an hour, darling! Where's your _make up! _Haven't you _gotten ready_? Right, I'm coming up!"

Effortlessly, Rosa Vincetti switched into socialite mode, her Italian accent suddenly a whole lot more pronounced. "Ahh...give me five minutes, _cara_!"

"But, _babe..._I've heard all sorts of things. Did Brett really get _attacked_ by a mad waiter? And did y-_"_

"I'll meet you at the front door in five, okay? _Ciao, bella_!"

She blew Camilla a kiss from her position, ignoring the complaints, and slipped around the side of the house, shutting the car door as she passed and leaning back against the concrete-block wall with a sigh. "Party."

"Party." I agreed ruefully. "I'd better go- I've got to be on duty by four. I'll ask around about what we read in your dad's office, okay?" There was something about the fifty percent share that kept niggling at me...something to do with Rosa, a tiny and insistent little _what if _that I didn't even want to think about.

"Yes...okay." She glanced up at me, suddenly shy. "Thomas...Tom. Are you going to be at the party tonight?"

"Nope. Only as a chef."

"Ah." She closed her eyes briefly. "Don't think too badly of me, will you?"

"Uhhh..." I said like a moron, before remembering myself. "No, 'course not. Well, I'll go out the back door. See you around, Rosa."

"Tom..." Already at the door, I half-turned as she came towards me, and timidly wrapped her arms around my neck in what was unmistakeably a rose-scented hug.

Unmistakeably. So why, _why, _when we drew apart, did I suddenly lean down and impulsively, _stupidly, _kiss her?

I don't know. And the second our lips touched, I still didn't, because I couldn't think anymore.

Her mouth was warm and soft, and recoiled in surprise before melting into the kiss. Warmth blossomed in my heart; sparks of fire zipped through my veins. Gently, I brushed my lips backwards and forwards over hers, before catching her bottom lip between my teeth. She stiffened in surprise, then drew closer, hands reaching up to twine around my neck-

It-

I-

I had to break it off. Now.

I wrenched myself away, falling backwards against the car. What had I just done? She had a _boyfriend. _She probably _loved _him. And here I was, coming onto her like some sort of... I don't know, rapist! Rosa stared at me in shock, as I retreated for the safety of the staff quarters.

"I'm so, so sorry." I blurted out. "I swear it won't happen again."

"But-"

"Honestly. Sorry. I'm so sorry." The door had opened, miraculously, and, coward that I was, I seized the escape route, shutting the door behind me and racing down the corridor, shame and fear biting at my heels.

Shame at what I'd just done.

Fear at something I'd just started.


	8. Underneath the Marquee

When I walked into the kitchens at four on the dot, the rooms were heaving. Herbs and food perfumed the air as Roberto roared his instructions at the crowd of chefs, a vein throbbing alarmingly on his temple.

"Caramelise... I said_ CARAMELISE, not CINDERISE_ THE PEARS, you HALFWIT!_"_ He yelled at a particularly unfortunate sous-chef, before turning to me. I took a precautionary step back- just in case. "Ah, Thomas Cooper. Get your whites, okay? The desserts and afters go out in half an hour. Chop, chop!"

"Yes chef." I told him, before his hand reached out and grabbed my arm. "No, no, wait. I just remembered. We're short on waiters tonight."  
"You want me to..." Insult my profession?

"No, I want you to be a ballerina. Yes, I want you to be a waiter! You're the lucky man! They should have a spare in the uniform cupboard. You _do _know how to tie a bow-tie, don't you?" He looked at me questioningly. Sadly, with Roberto, I had by now learned that denial was never an option.

"Of course. Chef."

"Good. Off you go, then. They want you around the back of the marquee in twenty minutes." He grinned a shark-grin at me, and I had no choice but to wave to Mark and a smirking Marilyn, and beat it out of the canteen to the store cupboard, cursing Roberto the whole way. I'd seen what the waiters wore...a _suit. _I wasn't even joking! Who wears a _suit? _The only bow tie I'd ever tied was a clip-on one...I just hoped that there was someone else who could do it for me.

As I struggled and swore my way into the black trousers of death twenty minutes later, Mark popped his head around the corner. "Hey, stranger!"

"Less talking. Help me with this bloody bow tie."

"You wear a bow tie?"

"Yes, I wear a bow tie. Bow ties are cool."

"My, my, we're in a bad mood today, aren't we? Where's your sonic screwdriver, hmm?"

"Shut up! You're not the one dressing up as a penguin." I pointed out.

"True. And I'm also a very happy man. Thanks for not screwing it up with Marilyn, my friend, because today went extremely well!"  
"Well, you two can love it up in the kitchen."

"Yeah, I know. How romantic." Mark grimaced, as he picked up the bow tie by the very end and held it up with an air of extreme bafflement. "How d'you tie this thing? Anyway, I was thinking about taking her out for dinner tomorrow night. I mean, I know that we'll probably be able to cook better food than what they serve us, but there are no coffee shops in the area, Tom! Only in bloody Queenstown, and that's _miles _away! I tell you; in Aus we wouldn't be having these problems..." He looked pitifully at me. I caved. Being angry with Mark was like kicking a puppy. And it wasn't Mark's fault, it was Marilyn's reaction to Rosa I was angry about. "Also, I couldn't manage to get time off to arrange a romantic walk in the woods."

The woods were the very last place I'd imagine as romantic after the Thug Encounter. "Ah. Well, good luck!"

"Yeah. Can I borrow your cologne?"

"Knock yourself out. Or rather, don't. Can you tie a bow tie?"

"I can try." He said cheerfully. "It's like tying a knot, isn't it?"

"Uhh...not sure."

"Easy as beating the All Blacks in the rugby. Come here." And with that encouraging thought, he completely failed to wrangle the scrap of cloth into anything representing a bow, or a tie, or both.

"Looks fine!" He said fifteen minutes later, as we surveyed the drooping knot. "Nobody will be able to tell the difference!"

"Looks like beating the All Blacks isn't that easy." I snorted. Mark chuckled too, and within two seconds we were holding our sides.

"I've got...a stitch!" He choked, which made me double up again. "They'd better...pay you overtime...for that!"

"Oh no!" I checked my watch, laughter drying up. "Late! I'm going to be late!"

"Just...flash em your bow tie."

I snorted. "Good luck tonight, mate."

"Likewise. See ya."

And with that in mind, I sprinted flat-out to the marquee. Guests were already arriving, looking splendid in their cocktail dresses and suits (only theirs probably cost five times what mine did). There was no sign of Rosa. I skidded on the grass, almost face-planted the mud, and made my way around to the back of the marquee, where a host of fellow penguins greeted me, looking austere in their white collars and cuffs.

"Extra waiter." I told the head honcho- and realised that he was the clerk. He looked me up and down, once- and his eyes lingered on my sorry excuse for a bow tie. Scrutinizing his face, the urge to laugh rose up inside me like champagne bubbles.

"What are you laughing at, boy?"

"Nothing...sir."

"Think you're too good to be standing here, do you?" I glanced around at the other waiters. Oh good. I'd probably made enemies out of them in a record breaking ten seconds. Schmoozing was probably my best option here.

"No, sir."

"Then wait in line like everybody else! And where on earth did you get that cut on your cheek? Couldn't you have covered that up?"

"Uhh..."  
"Never mind. Too late. Stand in line! Next time, I'll choose who'll be serving."

I nodded, once, despite wanting to hit him, and stood to receive my instructions. Which he gave. In detail. I'll spare you the details, but the general gist was that he expected us to be on prime behaviour, say nothing except when spoken to, blend into the background, and offer drinks and refreshments in a dignified yet subtle manner. A galling job, in short.

After that, we were all equipped with a silver tray and various 'aperitifs'- which turned out to be mine and Marilyn's lovingly-prepared salmon canapés. At least I could get first-hand feedback on the way they'd turned out.

"Right, ready?" The clerk gave us all the once-over, and nodded curtly. "Go on then, boys."

He lifted the flap, and we sidled into a glittering world that looked as though it had stepped out of an Agatha Christie novel. Girls, boys, champagne, cocktail dresses, a crooning band, tea-lights, tasteful decorations, a bar...everything anyone could wish for in a marquee. If you liked marquees, that is.

I circulated, trying my best to seem part of the crowd and yet aloof, as per the clerk's slightly dubious instructions. It seemed to work, though- the canapés started vanishing at light speed. I took that as a good sign, and made a mental note to tell Marilyn that our four hour's hard toil had not been in vain.

Up until that point, circulating had been going pretty damn well.

"_Ciao, bello!"_

I turned, to see her standing there. Rosa.

She looked stunning.

Her dark curls had been half pinned up so that the ends danced on her bare shoulders. She wore a floaty dress of deepest indigo, and a slowly curving, crescent-moon smile that made me feel just about crazy.

I was gobsmacked. "Uhh..."

"Suits suit you." She said lightly, before picking the last canapé off the tray and crunching into it. "What do you think of the party?"

"Uh. Good." I made an effort to pull myself together. "Everyone seems to be having a nice time, anyway."

"Thanks to the champagne." Rosa smiled mischievously. "I'm the one that has to listen to Brett rambling on about how he almost rode his horse straight into the middle of a hunt."

"Well...waitering has its perks, I guess." I looked down at the tray. "Damn, I'm out of canapés."

"Dance with me." She said suddenly. I stared at her, sure I hadn't heard right.

"What?"

"Dance with me. Please?"

"Rosa..." I stabbed my fingers through my hair, glanced down at the tray I was carrying. Stormy blue eyes stared back at me under a chestnut shock of hair. "People are going to see. And my bowtie isn't...never mind. Aren't you...uh, angry with me?"

"Angry? No! Why should I be? You don't look any different to the other guys." She pointed out. "Come on, Thomas...if you're talking about the kiss, then it was nothing. Forget about it, OK? Come on! Please? This might...be my last chance."

Nothing? Is that how she saw it? I covered up the stab of hurt with a half-grin. "Fine, then. You win."

"Good. I generally do."

She grabbed the silver dish and shoved it onto a nearby table. Then she grabbed one hand and spun herself around underneath it. "Dance." She commanded.

And I did. All that training I'd done years ago had given me an agility- or at least balance- that wasn't half bad. I could keep time to the music, and spin Rosa around and around underneath the twinkling lights, making both her and me laugh like loons. She didn't need any encouragement, though. Damn, that girl could _move. _

Eventually, the band struck up a slow, schmaltzy tune that had the women crying drunkenly into their hankies and men turning nostalgic about the seventies. Without actually knowing how, I found myself pressed tightly against Rosa, one hand around her waist, the other in her long, sweet-smelling hair. It was dangerous- we could be seen, even in the crowd- but for once, I didn't really care. I was savouring the moment- it might well be the last- and simultaneously entertaining a horrible suspicion that had been festering in my mind since The Kiss (which meant nothing). I had a nasty feeling that, without actually meaning to, I'd gone and fallen for the spoiled, annoying, determined, headstrong daughter of my boss. Big time. Except she wasn't just spoiled, or annoying. She was also brave, sharp, and deeply, deeply vulnerable. And somehow, for me, it had clicked.

As we revolved slowly on the spot, our feet tracing no pattern in particular, I thought about the problems that this unexpected hurdle would present. Many, in short. One, her father would not allow this in a million years. Two, Rosa already had a boyfriend, named Al. Three- the biggie- as Rosa was a Savant, she also had a Soulfinder. Who knew? Maybe it was Al. And that left no place in the happy little family drama for me, the ex-magical, ex-Soulfinder person.

Oh, good. I loved being the third wheel.

"Rosa," I said quietly into her ear, just as the song started to wrap up.

"Hmm?"

"I think I'd better go."

Now she looked up. Was I imagining the glint of panic in her eye? "What- no!"

"Yeah." Reluctantly, I let go of her waist. "The boss man is gonna be angry enough as it is."

"Nobody saw you." She protested. "Come on-"

"Ladies and gentlemen!" We both looked up automatically as Big Daddy himself strolled onto the stage. We automatically let go of one another as people turned to face him. There was no sign of his earlier tiff with his daughter. "Thank you, thank you for attending this party. I can only say that Rosa and I are blessed to know so many of you fine people."

Murmurs of approval; a smattering of applause. In the middle of the crowd, Rosa slipped her hand into my palm. I glanced sideways; she looked paper-white. I laced her fingers through mine and held on tight.

"As you might have guessed, we called you all here for a special occasion- to celebrate my Rosa's twenty-third birthday...and, hopefully, my pre-Presidential party!" He paused to allow the crowd to laugh- a couple tittered weakly. Undeterred, Vincetti soldiered on. "And that's not all...where is the birthday girl? Come on up, darling!"

Heads turned as the crowd started searching for the girl standing next to me.

"Go on." I whispered, and gave her a gentle nudge. Rosa pursed her lips, took a deep breath, and started wending her way through the crowd, who parted like the Red Sea in order to get her to the dais. Vincetti reached a hand down to pull her up, and then she was standing next to her father, looking composed. Only someone watching closely- like me- could have seen embarrassment flit across her face.

"As you all know, Rosa has spent considerable time in Britain whilst away from home...and who else did she pick up but a lovely young man!" Vincetti was getting into his stride now; I guessed that Al was going to make an appearance any second now.

"A lovely young man, who has travelled all the way from London to make it here tonight. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Alfred Cooper!"

What.

_What!_

I had misheard.

Misheard_._

_Misheard. _

I almost vomited, spinning on the spot to see who was soldiering onto the stage. And then-

There he was, striding confidently up to where Rosa was standing, and to where her father was holding out a beaming hand for him.

God. That was _Fred. _

I felt as though I'd been sucker-punched- an iron fist to the gut. I fought back the lump in my throat and stared at my recently-dead brother, staring, drinking him in.

He looked just the same.

No. Not quite.

The easy, carefree expression had been replaced with a steely calm. His hair was neatly combed, a coldness had set his features, and he was wearing a suit- something my Fred would have laughed at.

A vicious, serrated scar jagged a lightning bolt down the right-hand side of his face, twisting his eye downward at the corner. Despite that, he still had those charismatic good looks inherited from my- no, his- dad, Harry Cooper.

Rosa...Fred. _No. No!  
_He'd taken so much already...did he have to take her, too?

"Thank you, thank you!" Fred- Al- waved a genial hand, smiling broadly. "Thank you for such a warm welcome. I want to thank you all for coming- and for Rosa, for looking as beautiful as the day I met her, almost a year ago."

_Awws _punctuated the crowd. I almost gagged on a tidal wave of hate.

"As you know, it's a big day for her...in more ways than one." He took Rosa's hand, smiling broadly. Rosa's face was glazed with an empty social smile- I hoped. "Because, although Rosa turns twenty-three soon..."

He dropped to one knee.

"...I was hoping that she'd become my wedded wife too. Rosa, darling, will you marry me?"

The crowd went wild.

Rosa bit her lip; opened her mouth.

The conductor leaned forwards, placed a hand on her shoulder, and spoke quietly into her ear. Rosa blanched even whiter, her face stiffening into a blank mask. Was he the bald man? He looked familiar. I squinted. It didn't look like it...

"Yes." Said Rosa Vincetti.


	9. The Argument

How could she?

The crowd roared in excitement; I couldn't move. I felt as though every pulse of my heart was emptying me out, shrivelling me up. Fred's face showed nothing but manly triumph; Rosa's remained stoic, expressionless. As I watched, she muttered something to her father, who recoiled slightly, but nodded, looking annoyed.

"Rosa's feeling a little unwell, ladies and gents." He told the crowd at large. "Perhaps she'll go a little easier on the champagne next time." The crowd laughed, drunk on wine and excitement over the imminent society wedding of the year. But I knew how she felt; I felt sick to my stomach. "But to celebrate, I think...bring out the champagne!"

Everyone cheered as waiters stepped forwards, each bearing an ice bucket. My eyes were glued to the stage; my supposed task as waiter forgotten: all I could think was how that should be_ me_. I couldn't move- was drowning in a sea of people. Rosa smiled weakly, and, neatly ducking Fred's outstretched arm, hurried down the steps of the dais and through the flap of the tent, indigo dress billowing around her like a night-time cloud.

As the people made a beeline for the nearest bearer of alcohol, the crowd thinned for a second. Just a second. Fred, his face glowing with jubilation, scanned their faces- and met my gaze bang on.

Blue eyes locked into brown. Both widened.

Fred's mouth opened slightly, brow furrowing in confusion- a flicker of fear ran through me, pinning me in place like a butterfly on a page- but then a large, well-built woman sailed in front of me. I seized my temporary reprieve from the paralysis, using her as cover to make my way to the entrance of the tent.

"Young man_-what_ do you think you're-" The clerk bobbed up at my elbow, jaw set in fury. My already flammable temper exploded-I didn't think; just turned on him.

"Go and find someone who actually _likes _you, you patronising creep." I snarled. I didn't get to see his expression, but instead seized my chance and barrelled through the exit, gulping in cool night air as I'd just breached the surface of the ocean, and resting my hands on my thighs, trying to get my bearings. The world was spinning. I'd probably just lost my job.

It was all so simple now; so laughably simple. The criminal ring wanted Vincetti's business and prime positions in power; they'd get them by marrying off one of their members to his daughter. Easy. Simple. Two birds with one stone. Rosa's fifty percent in shares went to Fred, and he became the daughter of the Italian President. Whoop-de-doo.

I had to get out of here.

I made my way around the back of the tent, to where the marquee kissed the treeline, and leant my forehead against the broad, rough trunk of a tree, fists clenched. Where had I gone wrong? Why couldn't I just have been more careful, more respectful, more...something.

"Tom?"

Oh, and here she was. I didn't bother turning away from my tree, and heard my voice leave my mouth without permission, flat and monotone. Keep it calm, calm...

"What do you want, Rosa?"

"I just-"

"Haven't you done enough?"

"Tom-"

I didn't want to hear. "Go and play happy couples with my brother. Go on."

"Your _what_?"

I heard the shock in her voice and turned to face her. Rosa was still chalk white, red-eyed and looked miserable- just what I felt, but with more than a dash of anger stirred into season my despair. "Yeah. My brother." I laughed mirthlessly."He's a Savant too. Go on. Go have fun. You two deserve each other-"

_Crack! _

The forest blurred as Rosa slapped me across the face.

For a moment I stood there, hand pressed to cheek, skin smarting, face burning, disbelieving. She looked pretty much the same way. I looked more carefully, and saw her eyes blur with tears. Oh, hell.

"For your information." Rosa whispered. "They told me that they'd _kill _you if I said no."

"I-_what_?"

"You heard me." She set her jaw. "I don't _want _to marry Al. But I had to say _yes._"

"You..." She'd marry him to stop them killing me? We'd obviously not been careful enough...I slowly removed my hand from my cheek, feeling absolutely ashamed of myself. Anger had given way to complete and utter embarrassment. Well done, me."Oh, hell. I'm sorry. I just thought..."

"I know what you thought." She said cuttingly, squaring her jaw. Now would be a good time for the ground to open up and swallow me. "Now, what did you say about Al being your brother?"

My legs didn't seem to want to hold me. Slowly, I slid down the trunk, and leaned my head against the bark. There was a pause, and Rosa did the same, so we were shoulder to shoulder, there in the dark.

"Alfred. That's his real name. Alfred Cooper. I guess...oh hell. I guess the building didn't fall down on him hard enough." I took a deep breath. "He was working for the criminal ring before that, though. His...fiancée died, and it sort of sent him crazy."

"_This _is crazy." Rosa whuffed out a frustrated breath. "How can it be? Are you sure it was him?"

"He's my brother. Of course I'm sure."

"But...the same person, linking us both...what are the chances of that?"

I tried to order my thoughts. "Well, this happened almost a year ago. When did you meet Fred...Al?"

"Last January." She sighed. "He...well, his scar was still really livid then, I suppose. But he was so...attentive. Nice. He bought me jewellery... said he worked for an international business."

International was the word, alright.

"Did he have quiet, moody periods? Clam up whenever you asked about his past?"

A pause. "Sometimes. He said he came from England, and that he was an only child."

Despite everything, I felt a stab of indignation. Thanks a lot, Fred!

"Worked in science? Born 12th July?" A small part of me registered that Fred's July birthday meant that Rosa, born in September, couldn't be his Soulfinder. And for that, I was suddenly morbidly, _eternally _grateful.

"Yes. But...you said he was...a Savant?"

"It runs in the family. He can divert attention from himself...make himself kind of invisible."

"But _why_ does he want to marry me?"

I shoved a shaking hand through my hair. "The fifty percent in shares, for one thing. He'd own half the business, and the boss's daughter...also, he'd be the son of the Italian President. That sounds pretty good to me." But something still didn't quite add up...why did he want to marry into a restaurant chain? There had to be plenty of other candidates running for President...why had Vincetti been singled out?

"My _papa, _he won't agree to this!" Rosa drew her knees up and tucked them underneath her chin.  
"He's neck-deep in debt." I reminded her gently. "He can't well say no if he wants to stay afloat- and become President, don't forget."

Rosa slapped the ground in frustration. "We have to do _something_!"

I thought about it. Fred had this whole thing wrapped up as neatly as a Christmas present, for heaven's sake. And I hadn't seen it happening...I'd been too wrapped up in my misery over being cast out of the magical world to realise what I should have a while ago- that I'd been involved in this for a very long time already. Meeting Rosa had just put the seal on it.

"Bugger." I muttered. And it would've gotten worse, but just then I heard a tiny, suppressed sniff that made my stomach sink down to my knees. I looked around- in the half-light, I could just see a glistening tear slide down Rosa's cheek. Oh _no. _

"Hey, don't-" I began awkwardly, but she swiped it away angrily, and just shifted to face me instead, meeting my eyes dead on. In this light, they looked indigo- the same colour as her dress.

"I don't want to marry Fred." She said quietly. "If I could-well, I'd rather spend my time...with you."

Had I heard her right? Hope- dazzling, desperate hope- burst into life like a firework in my blood. Slowly- giving her time to pull away- I reached up and cupped her cheek in my hand.

"That kiss didn't mean nothing for you, either." I said, amazed. A statement, not a question. Rosa bit her lip; looked down. That was all the answer I needed- I didn't need to think any further. I just closed the gap between us- hoping she wouldn't slap me again-and kissed her.

This time she responded, leaning upwards to meet me and twining her arms around my neck, deepening the kiss. One hand was around her waist, the other in her long, sweet-smelling hair. I gasped out a breath, couldn't think, was drowning in hay, roses, Rosa...

She was perfect. She was mine. Who needed a Soulfinder?

The loud voices from the other side of the field suddenly broke into my bubble. "Rosa! _Rosa!_ Where is she?"

My superheated blood chilled suddenly. Fred. Rosa drew back- I stifled an unwilling groan- and bit her lip nervously.

"Tom." She said suddenly. "I figured something out, about my power-what I think it might be-"

"What?" I whispered back.

"Well, I was doing some experiments with the lights, and they all blew. Not fused- I actually _blew _them. Like...I boosted the electricity."

"Yeah- wasn't it something like a power flux?"

"I don't think it's just that-" Rosa bit her lip and brushed a finger down my arm. I swallowed. "What do you feel? Tell me honestly."

This was going to come out sounding so pathetically corny. "Like I just got an electric shock." To my eternal relief, she didn't laugh, rather frowned.

"Anything else?"

In truth, I was putting it down to her electrifying presence. I made a superhuman effort to concentrate. Apart from her, just the rush I always got around her. "Just-good. Really good." Now she'd said that, though, my rusty brain cogs clunked into motion. Was she onto something here? Could the electricity mean something else?

"_Rosa! Love, are you alright? Where are you?" _I shuddered at Fred's voice, and immediately hated myself for it.

"I can't hide here forever." Rosa said quietly.

"Can't you- what about those papers your dad had? Couldn't you try and destroy them?" It was a desperate bluff, but it might bring us some time.

"I could...I'll have a look. It'll have to be tonight, though. Papa's busy getting smashed on free champagne." Her Italian accent contrasted oddly with the English slang, and I had a stifle a grin, in spite of everything.

"Careful with the slang; you'll be talking like me next..._mate._"

"Not likely, mate." She sighed suddenly, and leaned her head against my shoulder. "Will you...keep an eye open for me tonight? I just...think something bad might happen tonight."

"Anything." I promised her rashly. "Count on it. I'll be there with my filleting knife."

"You'd better be, ninja. Just think about this-I don't think your power's gone yet." She cocked her head to one side, and, before I could do anything, leaned forwards, pressed a burning kiss to my lips, and walked out into the grass lawn.

"F-Al? I'm here! _Ciao, ciao!_" I watched her; her body language shifted suddenly into a relaxed, flirtatious mode. She'd have made quite an actress...though I suppose flirting was acting of a sort. The ways of girls were a mystery to me.

"At last? Where were you, babe?"

_Babe? Ugh! _

"Sorry, _cara. _I was a bit overwhelmed. Now, tell me-" The two black shapes on the grass merged. "-did you get me a ring?"

"Of course. A ring for my precious Rosa."

"Ah, you're too sweet!"

She laughed- a light, airy arpeggio- and the two strolled away casually. I felt like the worst kind of stalker, watching the two of them leave without me. I felt tempted to punch the tree I was leaning against, but resisted- just. Instead, I scrambled in my pocket, and took out my mobile. Breathing deeply, I stabbed the speed dial, and listened to the rings echo through space (and time).

Finally, someone answered. "Hello?"

"Mara. I need you to give me the number for the NZ Savant Net."

"What's happened?" Her tone sharpened. "Tom?"

"Deep shit." I rubbed a hand across my eyes. "Fred..."

"_Fred?!" _Her voice climbed several octaves with shock. "Since _when_?"

"Since twenty minutes ago."

Mara swore viciously- and that was followed by a sniff. "How?"

"God knows. The luck of the devil. He's changed, Mar." I admitted. "He's...colder."

"He can go to hell." She said angrily. I wish I felt the same way. "I can't believe it. I'm coming back on the next flight!"

"What are you going to do? You're in America!"

"I don't know, Thomas! I just...you can't face him alone!" A faint _crack _echoed down the line, followed by a frustrated snarl. I guessed my sister's mercurial temper had broken something- and that was the difference between me and Mara. Her fallback emotion had always been anger; mine, overanalysing. Talk about a gender role swap.

"I'm going to have to." I sighed. For a moment, there was silence, and my mind flashed back to the months after Mara had blown Fred's cover. I didn't miss those at all- the doctor had suggested writing a diary for my screaming nightmares, but I'd refused. Who'd want to remember such horrible things?

"Numbers?" I asked eventually.

"Ah..." Mara rattled off a couple of numbers. "Are you planning some kind of heist? What's happening?"

"Some kind." I didn't want to admit anything just yet.

"Well...be careful, Tommy. Love you."

"Love you too, Mar. I'll update you." I took a deep breath and ended the call. I had some others to make. And I had to be there for Rosa...serious caffeine was needed, but the kitchens were off-limits now: no doubt the clerk would be patrolling there, waiting for my ugly ass to get through the doors so he could fire me. What would I do now? My rep was ruined; no Vincetti restaurant would take me now. Unless, of course, his restaurant had gone under due to debt by then...something I was quite keen on happening if it meant that Rosa didn't have to marry my brother. Oddly enough, I felt rather good about that. No more seaweed biscuits or cod foam soufflé for me; perhaps I'd open another restaurant. Fred had sorted the first one out; I was quite keen to see if I could set up a similar venture over here- Wellington, perhaps? On the other hand, I was quite keen on the Bay of Islands...

Sitting there in the dark, I didn't want to admit how much the prospect of meeting Fred scared me, but I'd do it. I'd do it for her. And that in itself scared me.

And then the men I'd failed to see sneak up on me hit me over the back of the head, and everything went dark.


	10. Much Ado About Fred

People think they know about fear, but nine times out of ten, they don't. I mean, I'm scared of needles. I'm not kidding; Mara swears blind I look like I'm going to cry every time I go into the practise. I know, it's not very manly- as I've been told countless times by the charming aforesaid Mara- but, then again, nine out of ten of us haven't part of an organisation that has been fighting criminals since the age of about ten. I've sat in hundreds of meetings, and I didn't think much scared me- except for maybe having my restaurant fail-but I can tell you, _actual _fear has only come knocking on my door since recently. Two fears, actually: meeting Fred, and seeing the girl I love fail to herself from his clutches.

And right now, both were about to come true.

The knock on the head must have temporarily stunned me, because the next thing I remembered was lying on the floor- on _a _floor, since I had no idea where on earth I was- with my legs drawn up and arms cradling my head. My head throbbed something wicked- as though a particularly violent chef had used it as a rolling pin. Or as though a dinosaur had used it for football practise. My mouth felt as dry as the Sahara; what the heck was going on?

Then I remembered. Rosa, Fred...I was in serious trouble.

A door opened. "How's he doing?" I knew that voice without trouble; it was my brother. Half brother. I lay completely still on the hard, cold floor, my heart beating an uneven tattoo against my ribs, desperately struggling to control my breathing so it wouldn't give me away.

"He should be up soon. I only gave him a little tap on the head." I vaguely recognised the voice; made an effort to concentrate. It was, I thought, the thug-dude who had attacked Rosa a couple of days before.

"You'd better not have concussed him."

"Don't tell me how to do my job."

"Let's have a look at our prisoner...my God." Fred's voice changed from cool collectedness to shock and- was it possible?- horror. "I _thought _I saw him before..."

"Who is he? He looks vaguely familiar." The grey spectacled man said. "Looks a bit like..." Who? Fred? Mara?

"My half-brother." Fred said quietly. "I didn't think he'd be here...I didn't think he'd get mixed up in this." A half-laugh. And even though I _knew _he was working for the wrong side, _knew _he was different, I was hard pressed to stifle an answering grin. Perhaps...he wasn't as bad as Mara had first painted him. Perhaps there was some goodness left there...perhaps he was undercover. "Who am I kidding? He's a Cooper." I guessed that was self-explanatory. The Cooper, a relatively shy beast, always attracted trouble when it came out of seclusion.

"The plan-"

"Don't tell me the plan. I know the plan. I know what needs to be done. In every war there are casualties..." The hope I'd been nursing suddenly withered and died; I sucked in a shocked breath. Fred's voice suddenly sharpened, and I cursed my reaction. "He's awake! Thomas! Get up!"

Fear thrilling through my veins, I cracked open one eye to see a suited Fred glaring down at me, pinning me in place with a stare that would have put a lawyer to shame.

"Rosa's waiting for you." He informed me coldly. She'd been caught? Already? I swallowed. "And, for that matter, so are we. It'll be interesting to hear what you've got to say." I swore loudly- giving up any pretence that I'd been unconscious- and grabbed his leg, wrenching it sideways. With a surprised yell, my brother toppled sideways onto the floor with a dull, leaden thud. As he fell, I scrambled upright, head swimming, gasping as spots exploded behind my eyes.

Fred's face stared up at me between polka-dots, shocked and defiant. At that moment, I hated him.

I punched him across the face.

Fred roared in pain, head snapping sideways, fist coming up and deflecting off my chest. For a moment, we struggled- me in blind, iron-tasting rage, him in self-defence- as we had when we were brothers, or at least brothers on friendlier terms. I twisted around, avoiding a wild kick, scrambling for support, snarling, trying to get a better angle from which to attack his face again...I wanted to make him hurt, see the blood...

And then the other suited man who'd been keeping guard until then leapt into action like some kind of antihero and yanked me off him. Fred jumbled to his feet, hair tangled, suit askew, the Cooper temper staining his cheeks a blotchy scarlet, like I suspected mine were.

"Don't-ever-touch-me-_again_!" Fred spat each word out individually, before punching me in the stomach. I doubled over: winded, whooping and furious. "She's-not-yours."

"She's not _yours._" I choked out. "You double-crossing bastard. I thought you were dead!"

Fred frowned briefly, then his forehead cleared. Not for the first time, I wondered how I could have missed the signs- the lines on his forehead, the secretive behaviour, the coldness- before it was too late; before I'd lost my power. We had just jumbled along as a family, co-existing without actually _talking _about the things that mattered. An unwanted memory rose to mind- Fred teaching me to play cricket. _"Tom, you're a natural cricket player in the same way that fish are natural mountaineers." _I gritted my teeth and pushed the bittersweet memories out of my head. That Fred was gone...if he'd ever really existed.

"I had no reason to stay anymore. Half-brother."

Now it was my turn to recoil, trapped in the prison of Fred's accomplice's arms. "Don't...don't say that."

"Why not? Does it hurt too much?" Fred smiled blandly, and I lunged forwards blindly.

"I hate you." I told him, panting, playing the last card in my arsenal, hoping it would hit home.

It didn't.

"Too bad." He said lightly. "Take him to Vincetti's study."

* * *

The man who took me to Big V's study remained resolutely deaf to my attempts to strike up a conversation with him- once I'd stopped fuming, that was. The small, concrete room that I'd been flung into turned out to be one of the many cellar rooms that stored Vincetti produce- wine, cars. That sort of thing. On the way up to the main house, my gaoler's steps never faltered- he obviously knew the route well.

"So, done much since you attacked your boss's fiancée?" I asked him. He said nothing; just tightened his vicelike grip on my arms. "Does he know that you did?"

"He knows everything, so stop trying." Fred called back from ahead.

"_You _asked him to attack Rosa? _Why_?"

"To show her father what would happen if the deal fell through- a taste, if you like. To keep him in line. Don't think I liked giving the order."

"_Liked? _You homicidal maniac! You could have killed her!"  
Now he stopped, and turned to stare at me full in the face. "Why do you care, Thomas? What does she mean to you?"

I backtracked quickly, sensing the threat underneath that question. Fred had lost his own Soulfinder, Helene, to a Savant Net mission- my involvement with Rosa could turn out fatal for both of us if he knew about it. Already, my mind was settling into the fight zone; like any human faced with a life-or-death situation, all my emotions were shutting down, leaving an almost unnatural clarity behind.

"Nothing. Nothing. It's just...she's just a girl. Fred. Did you have to involve her in this?"

Fred stopped at the door to Vincetti's office- the one I'd been in several times. I practically knew the place better than he did. He paused, hand on the doorknob, and turned, leaning in offensively close. I wrinkled my nose against the champagne smell of his breath. "Just a girl?" He said quietly. "I could have had hundreds of girls if I wanted, Tom. All of them well-connected, rich. Don't you think?"

The answer: no. His mates' powers would have given him the girls he wanted; he himself had something to say for attitude and smelly breath. I itched to tell him the truth, but perhaps that wouldn't be the wisest career move I'd make.

Also, I wanted to know what made Rosa special.

Fred seemed disappointed at my lack of reaction. I hoped that meant he was about to do the supervillain thing and spill his guts.

"Rosa's _special." _He breathed in my ear. "She gives me money, government power...and actual power. That's her ability, Tom. She can boost other people's magic by about ten times. I've never seen anything like it. She's incredible. Completely untrained, of course, but imagine what I could do with her by my side- change governments, start wars, pass any laws I wanted..."

He paused again, allowing the statement to sink in, and grinned. I gawped at him in horror. In the hands of Fred- or any other criminal Savant, not to mention the guy that controlled minds- she was the ultimate weapon.

Before I could think of anything to say, he opened the door and entered. His thug dragged me in after.

The room was brightly lit despite the night time blacking out the window panes. I squinted around, eyes crinkling to adjust to the glare of the lamps, just about able to see a very pale Vincetti sitting bolt upright in his office chair, several other men who I recognised from the criminal Savant Net- Fred had really brought out the big guns- and Rosa. She was standing next to her father, face pale, but otherwise unharmed. When she saw me, her eyes widened, but I shook my head viciously, willing her not to say anything that might alert Fred to what was going on between us. I'd flirted with danger quite enough, but the one thing I didn't want to do was put her at risk.

"Rosa! How are you?" Fred asked, striding across the room and taking her by the hand. I bristled; she shied away...

Fred flickered. Just for a moment, but me, watching their exchange with a hawk's eye, saw it. He flickered in and out of view for just a fraction of a second, surprise colouring his face as he fought to remain visible.

_I've never seen anything like it. She's incredible. _How had I missed that before? Fred's power- his coward's power of diverting attention from himself to become, in a sense, invisible- had been boosted by Rosa's, and now he was having trouble controlling it.

A small lightbulb of a thought flickered on inside my brain. What if-

"Alfred?" Mr Vincetti rose from his desk, hands planted firmly on the unforgiving wood. "What is the meaning of this late-night interruption? I thought that we'd finalised the deal."

"Not quite yet." Fred said silkily. "There are some-uh- spanners that need to be taken out of the works first."

Vincetti pressed his lips together. He was still the arrogant businessman, but the cracks were starting to show in his armour. The Italian accent grew a whole lot more pronounced. "This spanner includes one of the ex-staff?" Ex? I hadn't expected that.

"You recognise him?"

"I saw him sneaking around earlier today." Vincetti said quickly. "When I entered my _officina, _all of my private papers were scattered around. He's a thief. I was planning to fire him after today's party."

"He obviously knows more than he's letting on." Fred mused. "How much _do_ you know, Thomas?"

"Everything." I said before I could stop myself.

"We need to kill him." The bald-headed mind-controller piped up. I glared at him; he really needed to learn some respect for the Coopers before one or the other taught him a lesson. At the moment, it looked like it was going to be Fred.

"We need to sort out the other problem first." Fred snapped. "If I want an opinion, I'll talk to someone who hasn't failed multiple missions."

Bald dude snapped his mouth shut, looking as though he'd been slapped. Hah. Served him right! I smirked at him; he shot mental daggers at me.

"And then there's Rosa herself." Fred said thoughtfully. Vincetti and his daughter both looked up sharply as her name was mentioned; I fought uselessly against the strangehold of Fred's accomplice. Seriously- this guy had muscles like steel wire.

"My daughter has done nothing." Vincetti said loudly. "This wasn't part of the deal."

"Until she started sneaking about behind your back." Fred said curtly. "Did you know that we found her in your office? And what about her involvement with this chef?"

"I-no..." Vincetti looked grey. "Wait; I remember. They both came out of my office this morning..."

"_What!?" _Fred looked flabbergasted. "What were you doing in there, Rosa? With him?"

"After your thug attacked her in the woods, I wanted to teach her about Savants. Because I'd figured out she was one." I said quickly. I flicked a glance at Vincetti, hoping the words about Fred attacking his daughter had sunk in. From the blueish tinge that appeared around his lips, it appeared they had.

"Teaching about Savants, eh?" Fred slowly raised an eyebrow. "Did you tell her about Soulfinders, too? Or did that slip your mind, seeing as you don't have one anymore?"

"What?" Rosa looked from him to me, hurt blossoming behind her eyes. "Tom?" I looked away; didn't want her to see the guilt in my face. "What- I don't-"

"Your _one true love." _Fred said the words quickly, as though he wanted to get them out of his mouth as fast as possible. "Special, unique, one Savant to another, made for each other-"

"His is dead." I said quickly.

Fred turned, and, with the speed of a striking viper, punched me in the stomach. All the air left my lungs in a _whooph, _and I coughed, winded, struggling to get some oxygen back into my lungs.

"Enough!" Vincetti roared. "The deal is off!" Everyone turned to look at him in surprise, Rosa included. He swallowed, but pressed on, and for that, earned my undying respect. "You have caused far too much harm to both myself and my daughter, Mr Cooper. She is far more precious to me than any business venture. I will ask you to leave now."

"Oh, we're not leaving until we've clinched this deal." Fred said slowly. "Gentlemen, secure Ms Vincetti."

Rosa backed away into the wall, looked beseechingly at her father, me, Fred. Seeing no help forthcoming, she feinted left- and then dashed right, hurtling for the door.

She never got there. One of Fred's men stepped forwards as she ran, snagging her from the air and twisting both arms up behind her back. Rosa screamed and thrashed, but he held firm.

"_Get off her!" _I roared, driving my foot against my captor's instep. Taken aback, he buckled slightly, and I managed to get one arm free, jamming it into his windpipe-

"_Don't move. Stop resisting." _And with that, both of us froze as the bald-headed man stepped forwards to do his thing.

"Next time you attack us in a field, aim for my brother instead of me." I snarled at him.

"Rosa!" Vincetti stepped forwards, whey-faced. "Let go of my daughter!"  
"Not until you've signed the contract." Fred said firmly, lacing both hands behind his back- a sign that he was thinking fast. "If you don't..." He left the threat hanging in the air for our imaginations to work on.

And I honestly couldn't see a way out.

We were trapped.


	11. Some Hitches With The Power

For perhaps ten seconds, we stood like that, stuck in some kind of freeze frame- me and Rosa fighting the spell of the Bald Terror; Fred and his cronies watching Vincetti; Vincetti watching his daughter. And all the terror and fear I'd suppressed was starting to filter through to my stupefied brain in the sudden tension.

Then, of all things, the lights started to flicker.

The guy holding me looked up, surprised, as the bulb started to pulse, giving out faint _chinks, _flaring up like a match each time.

Then, in succession, as though catching onto some bizarre game, the table lamp and the lights lining the walls began to do the same thing.

I gawped at them; so did Fred and Vincetti. I felt a bit sorry for him- his daughter's weirdness that he'd tried so hard to deny was now coming back with a threefold karma and giving him a spectacular bite on the arse. I recognised the glazed look; this guy was in serious shock.

The guy holding me shook my arms viciously. Because of the bald guy's spell, I flopped limply like a rag doll, feeling furious and helpless. "Stop doing that!"  
"Don't be stupid." Fred said, snapping his head round suddenly so that both of us jumped. "Thomas couldn't magic his way out of a paper bag these days."

Rosa's guard looked puzzled- not a hard thing to do with his facial features. "Then who..."

My heart practically leapt through my mouth.

_Rosa. _

Fred came to exactly the same conclusion a second after me. Spinning on his heel, he launched himself at his erstwhile fiancée. Her face was drawn and set, skin pale as milk. She stared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge his presence. "Stop her. _STOP HER!"_

Too late. At that exact moment, the lights died out with a flare and a _bang, _temporarily blinding us all.

The entire room was plunged into complete and utter blackness.

At the same time, the bonds immobilizing my arms and legs lifted, unravelling as though they had never been. Utter chaos reigned; shouts broke out, and a gun spoke loudly in the echoing panic, along with a flash of white light.

This was crazy. This was all Rosa.

Fred was right. She was incredible. Incredibly powerful.

As the bulbs fizzled out, every other sense started straining to maximum to try and compensate for the terrifying lack of light. Where was everyone else? The shouting masked most of the whisper-quiet noises of moving people.

I had a good idea of where Rosa was, though. As the guy holding me tightened his grip in panic, I staggered slightly- and then whipped my heel up, catching him in a very unfortunate place. I grimaced slightly as he yelled in pain (manly sympathy; sorry mate) and followed that with an elbow to what I judged was his stomach, before knocking his legs out from underneath him. As he collapsed, I jumped forwards, praying I wasn't going to hit anyone.

I didn't.

"STAY WHERE YOU ARE!" Fred bellowed at the top of his voice. And then- "Flashlight. Where's the bloody _flashlight?" _

"My power-"

"What the heck?"

"Who screamed?"

"Why'd the lights go?"

"Where _is _everyone-"

"Rosa?" I hissed as quietly as I could, under the racket that everyone else was making. "Where are you?"

_Tom? _The voice echoed in my mind, ever so faintly, sending shockwaves through me. I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach, like the sun had just appeared over the horizon of a thunderstorm, like I was drunk on the smells of the best cooking in the world.

Only one person could have that effect on me.

I reeled, as the boundaries of my world cracked and reshaped themselves.

She was my Soulfinder.

Oh my god.

_Tom? _

_Y-yeah. _I attempted to talk back to her- wasn't sure if she could hear me. _Rosa? Where are you?_

_Hello? Tom? Can you hear me? I'm by the wall. Next to the door- next to the bookshelf._

She couldn't hear me, then. She sounded so faint, though- I had to believe that was from my own lack of power.

Better get started, then. Carefully- oh so carefully- I consulted my mental map of the room. Rosa was somewhere to the left, then, as we'd been parked just outside the door. I inched forwards, foot by foot, every sense screaming, as behind me, chaos seized the crown from calm and reigned with a vengeance.

My foot touched something soft and squishy- and _warm. _I recoiled, swallowing a yell of shock. Who the heck was that? It looked like he'd knocked himself out. I felt out carefully. There was the bookshelf, anyway.

And a couple of feet to the left of that-

"Watch it!" Rosa hissed at me.

"Sorry." I whispered, sliding along to press myself against the wall next to her. "Where's the guy holding you? And what did you do? It's gone crazy!"

"I...just...I don't know. Well, the man knocked himself out on the bookshelf. I...well, I kind of lost control." She sounded awestruck. Prickles of unease crept along my spine. That probably wasn't a good thing. "But I don't know what to do. In a minute, Al- Fred- will find the flashlight and then we'll be back where we started. Only they'll be angrier at us."

"Can't you blow the flashlight?"

She let out a shaky breath. "I don't think so. Tom, I have no control over it anymore. It's gone crazy. I couldn't blow a fuse if I wanted to."

"Could you..." I paused for a moment, working out the finer points of my theory. "Could you transfer the power?"

"_What_?"

In the darkness, someone cursed in frustration. Vincetti roared out something unintelligible in Italian and something shattered. It sounded expensive. Oh dear.

I leaned in, closer to where I thought her ear was. "Listen. What you said earlier, about my power...I think you're right. I could still hear you- in my head- in the forest, and again just now. It's just really weak...and you boost power, Rosa. If we worked together- my control and your power- we could do this thing. That's why I feel a million bucks whenever I'm near you. Well, that and the Sou-"

"Yes, that." She said frostily. "When were you planning on telling me, Tom?"

"What, along with all the rest of the Savant stuff? You were only just accepting that!"

"What does it mean?"

"Love for life." I hissed hastily. "Look, can't we-"

"How do you know who they are?"

"When they speak to you telepathically it's like a choir of angels starts singing the Hallelujah chorus. Now, _come on!"_

"The lights will come back on."

"They'll turn on the flashlight anyway."

In the dark, her hand snaked into my palm. I laced her fingers through mine and held on tight. If only I had light to see with, I'd kiss her. But as it was, I'd probably miss and end up hitting her ear or something.

She took a deep breath. "Fine. I'll try and shift it...but it might not work."

I couldn't think about that now. We were backed into a corner as it was. "Okay."

"Found the light!" Someone called.

"Switch it on, then!" Fred roared. "The prisoners- _where are they?!" _

The flashlight clicked on, spearing a ray of light through the utter blackness of the room. And in that second, a rush of raw, pure energy flooded me. It was an absolute power cocktail- the magic soared back into my system, lighting up every single fingertip, burning along every nerve, making my senses explode, as though it were rejoicing to be back in my body again after so long an absence.

I breathed out, exhilarated, just as the lights hesitantly flickered back on. Every sense was boosted a hundred times- sight, vision, smell, touch. Rosa's hand in mine was clammy; her power left a burning, acrid smell in the air.

This was absolutely fan_tastic_.

"Step away from the bookcase." Fred had spotted us, then. I glanced around at him, glaring at us across the room, and felt my power kick in. How had I managed to live without this? Every emotion he felt was written across his body, plain as daylight- I could read them off one by one. Anger at the monumental cock-up of his plans. Nervousness that the deal might not be pulled off. Ruthlessness. Fear. Vulnerability, hiding behind his Ego.

I looked at him then, and he took a step back, perhaps afraid by what he saw. "Tom? What are you-"

"Doing? That would be telling."

"Seize them." Fred stepped behind a taller man, fear spiralling from him in waves. "_Seize them!"_

"I-" One of the suited men glanced at me uncertainly. With the magic making me reckless, I raised an eyebrow. He stepped forwards. With the ease of years of practise, I reached out with my mind- and the gun he was holding soared out of his hands.

Fred goggled at me, dumbfounded.

"I guess Rosa isn't as untrained as you think." I told him.

_Stop posturing! _Rosa snapped. I glanced over at her- her face was white. _My father's over there- and he can't defend himself!_

I rolled my eyes- and proceeded to make the remaining guns fly around the room, collapsing in a heap in the corner of the room.

_By the way, Rosa? _She stiffened as I spoke directly into her mind for the first time. This _is what a Soulfinder feels like._

"What?!" She exclaimed, stiffening in shock. Fred looked over at me, face twisting in confusion and anger. "You wait until _now_?"

"I only found out ten minutes ago!" I protested. But now- now it all made sense. At the beginning, I'd thought of Rosa as a spoiled brat. When had it all started to change? After the forest- after she'd screamed in my mind. And then- well, I guess the process had been speeded up. I refused to believe that I'd fallen for Rosa specifically because my half-gone powers said I should.

"That's absolute- _look out_!" Rosa screamed. I glanced over to see a man launch himself at us. With the new boost of power, I simply flicked my eyes and he crashed backwards into the heater. It buckled and broke like so much tin foil, releasing a spurt of gas into the air.

I swore under my breath. If anyone fired a gun now, the whole place would explode like Armageddon come early. Just my luck.

_Rosa? We need to get those papers your dad was about to sign. _

_How? We still need to get past those guys...oh god. This is completely crazy._

_Welcome to my world. I'll create a distraction, and then you run. Got it? Grab your dad and get you and those papers out of the door._

_But-_

_Do it! _

_-I don't want you to get hurt._

I stared at her. _It's a bit late for that. Go! Now! I don't want _you_ to get hurt; I can take care of myself!_

Rosa bit her lip. Even now- surrounded by umpteen homicidal maniacs who were hell-bent on killing me and marrying her- I could still find time to look at her face, now looking horribly pale in the room light.

"Go on." I told her. _Three, two, one..._ I reached out with my mind and snared the bookshelf. With a long, groaning creak, it toppled, spilling across the room like a large, unwieldy wrecking ball. Yells and shouts ensued- we were briefly hidden- we had our distraction.

She sniffed and pulled my head down for hers for a brief, burning kiss, before breaking away and sprinting across the room, making headway for her father. Concentrating as I was on keeping Fred and his men away from her, I only glimpsed her gather the papers up and catch her father's hand. Vincetti shook his head, dazed. Great. He'd gone into full-on denial mode.

I sent a book flying at one man's head, ducked a wild return throw and lobbed another across the room.

Until.

Fred lunged across the room. With a horrible plunging to my stomach, I realised that he was aiming for one of the discarded revolvers. I yanked it back frantically with my mind- but too late. His hand closed over the barrel and he turned on the floor, aiming straight for Rosa.

Pale and unsteady on her feet, she staggered- too late to avoid the bullet. I roared- one, long, endless yell of terror.

Several things happened at once.

Vincetti pushed his daughter out of the way, catching the bullet directly in the shoulder. Unable to stop himself, he fell against the full-length window. It couldn't hold his weight- it broke, and he went through like a lead weight, disappearing from sight, swallowed by the dead blackness.

Rosa screamed.

And the spark from Fred's bullet ignited the gas that had been swimming around the room since one of his mates crashed through the heater.

The whole world exploded.


	12. Brothers

The whole room exploded in a huge fireball, slamming me backwards against the wall with one bone-shattering punch. I gasped frantically- but all of the oxygen had been sucked out of the room by the fireball. I couldn't breathe- every bone hurt- I was going to die-

As quickly as it came, the inferno swooped out, leaving me slumped against the wall- against _something. _

For a long second, I couldn't think of anything but the gasps that whooshed in and out of my mouth, the steady rise and fall of my chest, the ache in every limb.

I was alive. How was I alive? I couldn't feel anything yet, only a numb disbelief that I'd managed to cheat fate somehow- _again_. Someday, my luck was going to run out...but that depended on whether everyone else was still breathing, too.

Where was everyone else?

I cracked open an eyelid to see the devastation beyond.

It was awful. The entire wall where the heater had been was blown away, leaving a charred mass of bricks, like a smile The sky was visible through chunks in the ceiling; the floor was visible through gaps in the after someone had punched out a couple of teeth. The carpet was a gutted mess of charcoal, and so were all of the furniture pieces. The sky was visible through chunks in the ceiling; the floor was visible through gaps in the were lying all around the room- I didn't look too closely at them- and so was Rosa... she was crumpled against the opposite wall, just next to the shattered remainders of the window.

"Rosa- Rosa!" Through some insane act of will, I levered myself to my feet, and staggered across the room, almost putting my foot through the floor in several places. What was wrong with my leg? "Oh, god, no." I managed to convince my feet to take me across the room, but they gave out when I reached her side. Her clothing was blackened, her hair charred, a large gash spilled crimson over her face, but apart from that I couldn't _see _anything else. Her eyes were shut. Carefully, oh so carefully, I brushed her hair back from her face, and fumbled clumsily for her pulse. My hands were like hunks of numb meat; they didn't seem wholly attached to my body. Were they really so blackened and blistered, or was it my imagination? I dropped her wrist once, twice- but only realised afterwards that I was too numb to feel any heartbeat. It didn't matter; I carried on anyway.

"No. _No. _Oh, god, Rosa, no, no, please, no, _please_, don't die, don't die, no."

What could I do? _What could I do? _

Frantically, I scrabbled inside my numb head for an answer. CPR, airways...I needed nothing short of magic.

The magic.

I was still getting the full whammy- I could feel it sizzling in my blood alongside the sizzling from the fire. I was taking all of her power; leaving her weak- and less likely to recover. Technically, I could put it back.

And _there_ was the choice I'd been dreading- power, or love? Could I have my old powers back-feel whole again- or should I accept they were gone and move on-and have Rosa instead? It had been the most incredible adrenaline rush, getting my magic back again, not having to guess what people were thinking, not having to move across the room to pick up an item. Could I go back to being a dried-up ex-Savant after having tasted the alternative? Butterflies exploded in my stomach as I stared at her.

But then- I didn't need my magic to feel whole again. The girl lying on the floor- the girl lying _dying_ on the floor- did that instead. Rosa laughed out of one of my memories, alive and vibrant and sparkling.

_Soulfinder._

There wasn't even really a choice.

_Heal, Rosa. _I told her. And then I let the magic flow back out of me, back to where it belonged. Back to her.

The blow I felt to my stomach- and to my ego- was almost painful, but I could take it. Or give it, to be more precise.

Rosa shuddered on the floor, gasped like a drowning man coming up for air, and then her breathing stabilised. I shuddered out a gasp of relief- every hurt doubling in the absence of the extra energy she'd given me- and leaned achingly in to press my forehead against hers, breathing in smoke and coal and burning and roses. She'd be okay now. Thank god. Just...thank god. And I...well, I'd be too.

I don't know how long I remained crouched there, just savouring the fact that I was alive- and that she was too. But then-

"Thomas?"

Did I hear my name? Or was I making it up...my mind was swimming like a fish in the ocean. I must have imagined it; everyone here was unconscious, save me, in some kind of bittersweet miracle.

"Tom?"

No, I'd definitely heard something. The voice was familiar- but thick, as though they were speaking through a mouthful of treacle. Who was it...but I had a horrible suspicion. I half-turned, blinking grit out of my eyes, dread building up in me like tar.

And there he was- Fred. The explosion had- God- torn gaping wounds in his stomach and chest. I couldn't were running on autopilot through my brain like some demented soundtrack. It wouldn't shut up.

_Ohgodohgodohgodohgod _I couldn't see properly through the rents in his clothes, but they were stained a darker burgundy with his blood. _Ohmygodnonononono..._I swallowed thickly.

"Freddy?" My voice came out much too small.

He smiled painfully. Blood bubbled at the corner of his mouth. "Hey."

"I...you're going to be fine." I said automatically. His voice was horrible- I hadn't made up the treacly sound of it. I wanted to cover my ears, scrape the sound of him off my eardrums, scratch the sight of him off my eyes. I realised I was still cradling Rosa's head, but I couldn't bring myself to let go.

"Shut up." He coughed out a laugh. "I'm a dead man walking, Tom...don't lie."

"_No." _I said forcefully. "Wait...the ambulance." Dimly, I was aware of screams coming from the outside of the room. My mind flickered to Mark- but no. I couldn't bring myself to care about that.

"_Shut up." _Fred's glance flicked across to where Rosa's hair spilled out across my lap, matted in ropy strands glued together with blood. "I didn't mean to shoot her...I just...lost my temper."

"Whatever." I said before I could stop myself. Fred raised both eyebrows at my tone, and smiled ruefully.

"You love her." It was a statement.

"I...yeah. Soulfinder."

"_Ah..._" Fred drew in a quick, agonised breath. "She deserves...you. Or the other way around...I'm not proud...of what I've done...Tom. Helene...wouldn't be proud."

"You raised us, didn't you?" I asked thickly. Dust must be in my eyes, because they were blurring over, fracturing firelight into a hundred rainbows across my sight. "For about ten years. Organised the restaurant...got me and Mara into school..."

"Mara." My brother sighed. "If there were some things I could do again...I'd never have stopped her...you...your power. I'm so sorry, Tommy."

"Don't worry." I said urgently. "Fred..."

"Find Mum, would you, Tom? Tell her-" He broke off to wheeze, and the sound tore at me worse than knives. "-that I forgive her. Love her."

"I won't need to, if you just _hold on." _I clenched my hands into hopeless fists, and uncurled them again. My hands ached with the need to punch the living daylights out of the floor.

"I just wanted...I don't know. More...than I had with you...and Mara."

"It's fine." I said urgently. _Nonononono..._my brain was going into overload. "Just...hold on. _Hold on."_

"I just wanted you to know...that I loved you two. Tell...Mara for me. Will you...forgive me?"

"Yes." I couldn't get the words out. "Of course, you lummox. Yes, yes. I love you, too."

Fred smiled- and coughed again, his body spasming on the floor, drawing cruel, tortured shapes in the charcoal dust, spattering them with droplets of poppy red. Slowly- agonisingly so- he stretched out his hand.

I understood what he wanted after a few, painful seconds.

Almost as slow, every bone aching with pain, tension, bruising, I reached out too. Halfway across the ruined, charred floor, he clasped my hand for the first time in half a year. I held on tightly- with all the strength left in my body.

Fred quirked a painful smile. "Brother."

I tried to smile back, but my face seemed to be fixed into a blank mask of shock.

I met his eyes- stormy blue grey and chocolate brown.

"_Helene." _He breathed.

And

then

he

was

gone

.

I couldn't believe it.

For about ten seconds, I sat there, frozen with shock and grief.

Then I screamed- one long, utterly terrifying sound of primal rage and pain, doubled over, bent over Rosa's limp figure, almost touching her face.

With my free hand, I punched the floor over and over again. Skin split; blood burst like ripe fruit; I remained numb.

_No. No. NO._

_Fred!_

I was still sitting in exactly the same place when the ambulance arrived to take us away.

* * *

I have a couple of hazy recollections of the fire service practically smashing what was left of the house to try and get to us. I think that, in the end, they got a cherry picker to lever me, Rosa and the rest of the injured victims to safety.

They went back for the bodies later.

Once we got to the ground, to the accompaniment of the dumbfounded stares of the rest of the staff, we were put into the ambulance, and driven the required thirty miles to Queenstown. I remember being numb, not interested in anything much except for the dull white wall of the ambulance opposite me. I must have blacked out after that, though, because when I came to- when my mind actually started working again- I was in a hospital bed, with sunshine throwing dancing patterns over the lamp and bedspread.

Rosa was slumped against the wall next to my bed, half-in-half-out of her chair, and cheek mashed against the plasterwork. Her mouth was hanging slightly open, giving her a slightly stupid expression.

I found it quite cute.

"Hey, you." I croaked. She started slightly, and then cracked open one eye to stare blearily at me.

"_Dannazione._" She said, and frowned. "I fell asleep."

"Yeah, you did." I agreed. "Have a nice nap?"

"I've had better." She levered herself off the wall, and plonked herself back into her seat. "How're you feeling?"

"I've had better." Now she said it, I could feel a whole line of aches and pains, queuing up for attention. That was the trouble with wounds; they were always so demanding. I looked down at my body through sleep-fogged eyes. One hand was heavily bandaged, giving me a kind of white oven mitt appearance. I dimly remembered punching the floor...

Oh. Fred.

I had a nasty feeling that his last moments would be giving me nightmares for a long time to come. Great.

Rosa noted my change in expression as I reached for the water on the bedside table. "You've been through the wars." She said finally. "What happened after I got knocked out?"

"Not much."

"Liar." She leaned in close, pushing boundaries like she always did. Polo-scented breath washed over my face. "You have this horrible dead look in your eyes that makes me want to shake you."

I didn't say anything, but avoided her gaze, concentrating on chugging the water. Jeez, I was thirsty.

"You saved my life, you know." She told me. I stared at her, lowering the glass, misting the rim with my breath. I thought that she didn't remember anything. Rosa cracked a cheeky grin. "You've done it a couple of times now, Thomas Cooper."

"Anything for you."

"That's good. You know, I'm still angry with you about the Soulfinder thing, but I don't think that matters any more. You need to get better, and I think it's my time to return the favour."

"When did you get so wise?"

"Since you."

"My brother died." I blurted out, clenching my teeth. It hurt, but not as much as I'd thought it would. It had a kind of savage pleasure to it- the kind that makes you want to pick scabs or keep poking a throbbing cut. But the cut had already sealed over. It had been the shock of losing Fred again that had made me freak out, I think, but then again, "I think I accepted his death six months ago. It's kind of...closure."

"I never knew him properly." Rosa said sadly. I looked at her then, and realised that she was grieving, too. He'd been her fiancé, after all. Her Al, even if her Al was a lie. "I never even knew his real name."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." She said briskly, snapping out of her reverie. "I'm worried about you."

"Don't be."

"_You _don't be. Such a smartass!" Rosa folded her arms and glared. "In case you wanted to know, my father's alive. Just about. He fell through the window and broke his back, but he lived. He's in a hospital bed, but they're thinking of putting him into a wheelchair in a couple of weeks."

"Oh. That's good!"

"I thought so. But I don't think he'll be employing you any time soon."

"I did blow up his house." I pointed out. Life was slowly seeping back into my limbs- just sitting next to my Soulfinder was causing it to flow back into my body like a potent summer wine. Soulfinder. I still hadn't been allowed to enjoy that fact yet. "I guess I'm on the road again."

"Where are you going to go?" She asked. I glanced across at the small note in her voice and saw that she'd crossed her arms over her chest protectively.

"We-e-e-ll," I said slowly. I hadn't really thought of this as anything beyond a dream, but now the future was starting to take shape out of the misty fog of the future. "I was thinking of...buying a house, building up a business- nothing like as big as the one I had in Britain, but, perhaps, a little café...a house would be nice."

"House?" Rosa squeaked.

For the first time in what felt like years, I had the urge to smile. "Yeah. House. But I was also thinking..."

She raised both eyebrows. Probably impressed at my nerve on asking this on what was practically my deathbed. So was I.

"...would the daughter of a high-flying Italian-president-to-be consider helping me set it up? I mean, the wages will stink, and it'll be hard work, and you'll have to clean, but..."

"You want to _employ me?"_

"Well, yeah..."

"I thought you were going to ask me to move in or something!"

"Move in?" I grinned at her annoyed expression. My muscles felt stiff- they weren't used to be used this way, obviously. "Did you want me to?"

"We only met a week ago." She pointed out.

"Excuses. Your father would probably be a bigger obstacle."

"He can't tell me what to do any more." She waved her hand dismissively, and I saw how much she'd changed- even in a week. There was a new determination in her eyes. "Why not?"

"Well. Have a look at the house first!" I pointed out. "You want to spend the rest of your life cleaning out ovens?"

"If I have to."

"That's above and beyond the call of duty. Come here."

I held out my hand- the non-mittened one, and she slid her cool fingers into my palm. I pulled her close, and she slung her arm around my shoulders.

"You know." She said thoughtfully. "Last time we did this, we were interrupted."

"True." I agreed solemnly. "And the time before that."

"Want to try again?" She grinned mischievously.

I laughed. Who wouldn't?

I banished the spectre of Fred from my mind- there'd be plenty of time to heal in the following weeks- blocking it behind a massive brick wall. I wanted time with my Soulfinder.

And I pulled her head down to mine, lips meeting in an achingly passionate kiss, to finish what we'd started.


	13. Epilogue

**Hello everyone! Thanks so much for reading this story- and all of the lovely reviews I've had; they've made my day each time. Just to let you know- I've added quite a bit more to the chapter beforehand, which makes this chapter make a bit more sense. Thanks, all!**

_Four months later..._

"Damn these quiches!"

I ran both hands through my hair in frustration, sticking it up in herby, floury-glue-tufted spikes. Despite following James's recipe to the tiniest- make that _infinitesimal- _detail, they were still sitting stubbornly in the oven, refusing to set. My hands were thick with the smell of rosemary, coated in eggy-flour, and burnt from repeatedly shoving them around on their shelf. Why were they being so unreasonable? Did you require a magic touch to work with pastry? Did quiches only respond to loving hands? They'd face the wrath of flattening hands in a minute...

I _would _do it. I'd wipe that annoying smirk off James's face, even if I had to buy supermarket-made versions to do it. Maybe I'd call in Mark's help...anyone to stop me from taking out my rage on the pastry. Though I'd have to swear him to secrecy, of course.

As I set the timer- praying for an eggy miracle- I looked out of the window. I was in my kitchen- a small, but gorgeous room set at the back of the house. Made of stone-while the rest of the house was wooden- it was fairly cold and had been in a rubbish state when I'd first bought it, but I'd recently splashed out on a posh oven and was saving up for some newfangled kitchen utensils. The first thing I'd fallen in love with when I saw it, though, was the view. Especially now, in the late November, the pohutukawa trees flowering in bursts of red and green, it parted through to the gently rolling fields of Middle Earth-style Kiwi landscape, and, in the distance, a glint of azure sea was just about visible: a band of sapphire on the glittering horizon. Due to the upside down nature of New Zealand weather, we'd be spending Christmas on the beach.

My fingers fumbled on the dial- even after all those physio lessons, they still tended to stiffen up occasionally, though, thank God, it was only on my right hand- and I stifled a swear word as they banged painfully against the oven handle. Stupid fingers. I was all but left-handed now, seeing as during the first two months I'd hardly been able to pick up a fork, let alone a pen.

Thank God for Rosa. Those first months after what had come to be called as the Vincetti Vendetta, I'd been in a bit of a state. Of course the press had been agonising over it- questioning the witnesses, annoying the heck out of Vincetti's admin staff, and even trailing the waiters around. She'd come around here simply to try and catch a bit of a break from the reporters. I could swear I'd seen Mark on telly at least twice, giving his- extremely limited- version of events. Vincetti himself had been extremely prominent where bossing people was concerned, first from his hospital bed and then chasing them around in his motorized scooter. Needless to say, with all the hoo-haa and without the support of the criminal Savant ring, he didn't get the Presidency, which I think was a bit of a blessing in disguise for the whole family. He needed rest; Rosa needed to gain independence; both of them needed to get to know each other a little better. She'd spent time with him- helping him to figure out how to adjust to life in a wheelchair- but she'd spent most of the time with me. After all, spending time 24/7 with Vincetti was enough to drive anyone up the creek.

I walked over to the door, letting the cool air break over my face like a wave, diluting the stifling air of the kitchen¸ swamping me in yet more memories. Up the creek...that was just as good a definition of me for weeks after the Vincetti Vendetta. The nightmares went without saying- just like the first time that Fred had been 'killed', but this time accompanied with graphic 18-rated gore scenes instead. Rosa had been as good as her word, helping me in my search for the house, and then waitressing for a while whilst I set up. I'd decided on a small wooden-housed stone-kitchened house out in the sticks up in Taupo, and miracle of miracles, she'd proven a quick learner, and not too put off by the state of the house despite her fairly posh background- though there had been a couple of blow-ups about the wages. She was staying here on a week-in, week-out basis whilst sorting out matters with her father. It had kind of helped to bring us closer together- getting over my brother. Weird how things like that happened.

I was startled out of my reverie by the metallic drone of a scooter. Oh no...Rosa had come back from her driving test. Pass or fail? That would settle the mood for the entire rest of the day.

Cautiously, I stepped out of the door into the breezy warmth of summer. Perfume washed over me, perfectly set off by the vibrant greens and reds of the garden. The door to the kitchen faced onto the garden, but a small path wound around to the front, where it opened onto the cafe entrance. I'd closed it for the afternoon, in anticipation of Rosa's big reveal. She'd been driving for a while now, and I was crossing my fingers that a girl who couldn't handle a gearbox three months ago would be able to pull off a perfect three-point turn under exam pressure.

I ambled around to the front, hands stuck in pockets, to where Rosa was getting off the scooter, helmet tucked under her arm. Her hair had twisted itself into damp curls from the ride, and her cheeks were flushed. To me, she was absolutely gorgeous.

"Hey, babe." I strolled over and kissed her, sliding an arm around her waist. "How...how did it go?"

"I..." She looked up at me. For a moment, I thought she'd actually done it, but then her eyes creased up and she pressed her lips together.

I felt my stomach sink down to my knees. "Oh, no...I'm so sorry, Rosa..."

She sniffed, bit her lip- and then burst out laughing. "I _passed, _you idiot!"

"You- little minx!" I yelled, dumbfounded. "You- thank god!"

"Didn't think I'd pass?" She challenged.

"I did!" I grinned, relief rushing through me. "I have complete and utter faith in you."

"Good."

She reached up for a kiss. I laughed and picked her up, spinning her around in a circle. Her hair flew, she wrapped her legs around my waist, and we stumbled backwards into the wall, where I kissed her until we were both breathing funny and I couldn't think straight.

"Shall we..." she said huskily. "Shall we go inside?"

"Too late." I said ruefully. Behind me, the gravel crunched as yet another engine purred into the small cark park. Big, flashy and red, it was the jaguar to Rosa's pet cat of an engine. "The in-laws."

"Is Mark coming?" Mark had come fairly often since we'd parted ways with him at the Vincetti mansion. The relationship with Marilyn, despite all of its promise, had ended when she, convinced that his visits were more for Rosa's sake than mine, had ended it. It was a shame, but then, as he liked to say, too many cooks spoiled the broth.

"He couldn't make it. Not too cut up, are you?"

"Only slightly devastated."

"I knew you were only with me for the cooking."

"Better believe it, slave."

A car door clunked open. "Get a room!"

"Hey, Mara!" I turned, as my sister, all chestnut-headed, five-foot-something of her, came bouncing out of the door. She looked the same as ever- skin browned from the suns of about umpteen countries, worn shorts and even more worn jandals- the complete opposite to Rosa's aviator's jacket, white summer dress and leggings. Rosa started across the yard. They'd met a couple of times before, and, to my immense relief, actually seemed to get on. Probably because Mara wasn't the jealous type- and knew that she had no interest in Will.

"_Ciao, cara!" _Mara gripped my girlfriend (!) in a brief, but tight, hug, before running straight into my arms.

"Hey!" I said into her shoulder. She smelt of car and mint- a weird combination.

"Heya, Tommy." Mara's mouth was right by my ear, so I was getting the full volume version of her voice. "I've got _so _much to tell you- also, presents! We couldn't find your little shack for ages- Will kept missing the turn-off- and it was absolutely boiling in that bloody car! How are you?"

"Really good." I pulled away to look into her blue-grey eyes- so like mine. "Really, really good. I knew you were coming- and The Mouth- so I made quiche."

"Did I hear quiche?" I turned to meet the owner of the American drawl- Will Benedict, my sister's Soulfinder. I smiled hello, and we did the Man Thing- shoulder slapping, hand clasping that was the same whichever country you went to.

"Sure did. But don't blame me if they're not as good as James's- oh, you haven't met him."

"Then there's no competition."

"Excellent. Wanna come in? We'd better sit in the cafe- not enough room in the kitchen for four of you massive lummoxes."

"Sounds good. Could murder a cuppa." Mara looked around. "I say this every time I come here, but you've really done the place up well."

"Cheers." I'd been pretty pleased with it. A lot of the decoration had been found in charity shops, given the lack of funding, but the garden was all me. I had a couple of vegetable plots, and so far, they hadn't died- perhaps I'd become the first green-fingered Cooper. A rare thing, in case you didn't know.

Mara flicked a random windchime, setting it bobbing and tinkling, creating liquid music on its stand. "So pretty."

"That's New Zealand for you." I pointed out. "Have you seen Lord of the Rings?"

"Sure thing, Bilbo."

I rolled my eyes, fishing out the key for the café. I'd taken a leaf out of James's book, installing floor-to-ceiling glass panes in an oak frame for the front of the building. It had cost a bomb, but it was worth it- the tourists seemed to like the view, which kept the money coming in. Inside, the tables were low and grouped around traditional French-café-style chairs and leather armchairs. Will let out a low whistle.

"Sweet." He said. "Can I help with drinks?"

"Awesome. Come on then. Rosa, Mara, can you sort out the tables?"

"Jawohl!"

I led Will into the kitchen, and fished around for the kettle. I didn't think my fingers were up to the fiddly quiche work required, but fortunately I had a willing victim- I mean volunteer. "Can you take the quiches out of the oven?"

"Yeah." Will found a heavy-duty mitt- all of the others tended to melt after a couple of weeks-and got to work, whilst I filled the kettle and found mugs, tea, coffee, milk and sugar.

"Quiches out!"

"Ah, nice." I said, feeling a smug glow of satisfaction kindle inside me. They were perfect- just slightly browned on top, and they'd actually set! Worthy of Masterchef. Eat your heart out, James! I'd have to take a picture to send to him.

"While we're here, Tom..." I heard the changed tone in Will's voice- stilted, almost nervous-and turned around. "I have something to ask."

Oh. I had a good idea of what this was about. I needed to keep a straight face. Solemn at all times. "Yeah? Fire away."

"Well, I was wondering...me and Mara have been dating for a year and a half, and...well..."

"Yeah?" I had to bite my lip- like Rosa had done- watching him struggle to get the words out.

"And..." Will straightened up, looking me directly in the eye. "I was going to ask her to marry me."

"Wow." Now, I smiled. "Congratulations!"

"She hasn't said yes yet." He pointed out.

"She will." I'd seen how she looked at him- and how he looked at her. Mara would just about explode with happiness- considering her volatile power, perhaps she would.

He grinned, looking relieved. "I just wanted to ask you, because you're the closest family she has. I'd feel rude at least not giving you advance warning."

"Consider me warned."

"Thanks, Tom."

"Hey, no problem."

"What's keeping you guys? Hurry up!" Rosa called. I raised my eyebrows at Will.

"Nothing!" The kettle popped and I filled the teapot and coffee decanter, before staggering into the cafe section snowed under with pastry and liquid. Mara jumped in surprise as I entered- I heard the telltale crack as something shattered.

"Oh, _no!" _She cried, cheeks flooding with colour. "I don't normally- ah, I'll pay you back!"

"It's me." Rosa said, flushing as well. "I boost power; sorry."

"Oh," Mara bit her lip as I set the teatray down. "Not too good for me. I thought I'd lost control or something."

"You'll just have to be really careful, or you could blow the house up." Will winked at her. She scowled.

"Impossible."

"Help yourself, guys." I told them, sitting in the large squishy leather armchair. Rosa perched on the arm, a large chunk of quiche in her hand.

"The moment of truth." She said dramatically. Now she'd been settled here for four months, her accent was less strong than it had been, which I missed, but her dramatic tendencies were still alive and kicking. We all watched her as she took a bite, and s-l-o-w-l-y chewed.

"Yes?" I asked impatiently.

"It's...actually...quite good!"

"Talk about suspense." I groaned. "Give me that coffee pot; I need it."

"So, where have you just come from?" Rosa asked Mara.

"Naples." Mara's voice warmed. "It was fab. We saw Pompeii- _that _was amazing. Just think! Roman life, but preserved! And you can see Vesuvius hanging over the town, like some kind of shadow. But the only thing was, I was expecting to see roofs and cloth and stuff, just as they left it. But there's just stone left- and plaster casts."

"Why do you always visit the most fragile places?" I asked.

"Because they're the most interesting. Stop teasing! I got you some ingredients."

"The way to my heart." I said. "What?"

"Some herbs, we went to Sorrento- they're famous for lemons, so we got some lemon essence and biscuits- oh, and the ingredients for spaghetti alla rabiatta. But apparently it's really spicy, so hold on the chilli."

"Nice one. Cheers." I said wistfully. "I'd love to go on holiday some time."

"I'd like to show you Roma." Rosa said even more wistfully. "The Colosseum- oh, and the Pantheon, and the Castel Sant'Angelo...ruins pop out of the floor everywhere."

"Why don't we all go?" Mara pointed out. "A holiday with a native guide- sounds ideal!"

"That sounds nice- it'll have to be June time, though- winter here, so less tourists."

"Even more ideal." Mara grinned. "Will, don't you have contacts, there?"

Will shrugged. "I have contacts everywhere. We should get a good deal. Come on!"

I glanced at Rosa. She grinned enthusiastically, and I couldn't stop an answering smile spreading across my face. "Yeah. Okay!"

"That's more like it!"

I was just about to go and get the leftover cake from the cupboard to sustain us through the nitty-gritty of holiday planning, when a knock sounded on the door to the café. Startled, we all looked around.

A girl was standing at the entrance to the front doors.

Startled, Rosa and I blinked at each other. I'd definitely shut the building up- and anyway, who'd come all the way out here, alone, for light refreshments?

"I'll get it." I said, walking over to where she stood. Closer up, I could see that everything about her spoke _nervous- _from her half turned position, to the hand awkwardly clutching the straps of her rucksack, to the half-running stance she was adopting. She couldn't be more than sixteen, and her simple, summery dress was dusty, as though she'd walked her all the way from the turn-off; a good three miles away.

"Heya." I said, opening the door. "Can I help?"

She turned, then, and I was hit full in the face by her blue-grey stare.

The first thing I thought was- _Woah, those look familiar. _

And then I realised why. They were a carbon copy of both mine and Mara's.

"Hi." The girl shifted awkwardly. "Uh...are you Thomas Cooper?"

"Yeah." I said dumbly. "Uh. And you?"

"Emma Mahoney. I'm, uh, Marcus and Eleanor's-"

"I know you are."

"Tom?" Rosa called. "What's the matter?"

I could only shake my head, taking her in- taking this girl in. Curly, sun-streaked hair, a couple of shades darker than mine and Mara's- more light brown than bronze. Grey-blue eyes, slightly puffy, as though she'd been crying. A stubborn tilt to the chin that I saw in my sister. A long, sloping nose I saw every day I looked in the mirror. And an aura of trouble that surrounded her almost visibly.

She was the spitting image of her mother.

I had another sister.

I stepped back, opening the door wider.

"I think you'd better come in." I said.

_The End?_


End file.
